


Homecoming

by RemyRemedial



Series: The 'Stag Do' Universe [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Age Play, Age Regression/De-Aging, Discipline, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, Non-Sexual Age Play, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-03-23 14:18:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 54,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13789506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemyRemedial/pseuds/RemyRemedial
Summary: Mycroft, Greg, Sherlock and John are a family. A somewhat unusual family, but a family all the same. For some time, Sherlock and John have been referring to Mycroft and Greg as their parents whenever they slip into a younger headspace. This is the story of what happens when they do.Set in AU sometime after the end of series 4, where everything is much the same as it was left, only there is no Rosie.





	1. Chapter One

Sherlock and John were sat in the back of the town car as it pulled up to the tall brass gates.

They had both been holding off slipping younger for a week as their case drew on and on. The last few days had been terrible, both of them in a foul mood and snapping at the other whenever the opportunity arose. Angrily answering calls from Mycroft and Lestrade, telling them to ‘fuck off’, even though the two older men knew very well they couldn’t take a break until the case was solved. When finally the breakthrough came, Mycroft arranged for a car to be waiting outside 221B before even the final paper work was finished. 

Both men had noticed this and managed to hold off just a little longer, until everything was finalised and the flat was empty except for the two of them. They had sat next to each other on the sofa, staring at the screen of Sherlock’s phone which was counting down from five minutes. Long enough, he had explained, to be sure that the coast was clear as neither of them was sure they could make it into the safety of the car without some eyebrow raising behaviour and neither of them wished for such behaviour to be witnessed by anyone they knew. 

As the clock ticked down, they sat, knees jittery, in their coats. As it drew closer and closer to zero, Sherlock began slowly thumping into John’s shoulder with his own. At first John took this in good spirits, swinging away from Sherlock with every thump like a metronome. However as he started to swing back into the man that was fast becoming his big brother as the seconds ticked by, both men (soon to be boys) were soon crashing into each other with some force. Sherlock span around pushing John in the chest just as his phone flashed 0.00 and beeped cheerily. 

The boys locked eyes before racing each other for the door. They shoved each other out of the way, slamming the door behind them as they pulled at each other, desperate to be the first in the car (neither was sure why). They thundered down the stairs and called a loud “Sorry!” in response to Mrs Hudson’s complaints.

Sherlock had won, sliding into the car first and looking mighty pleased with himself about it too. For the rest of the car ride they had been play fighting, which would turn into real fighting, which would lead to them both sitting slumped in their seats breathing heavily and exchanging cheeky looks, before the cycle started all over again. By the time the car was making its was down the long winding driveway up to the small cottage that they called home with Greg and Mycroft (or Da and Pa as they were respectively known when the men became boys), they were both physically exhausted but somehow continuing with their endless cycle of brotherly violence. As the car stopped outside the cottage they were well into the ‘real fighting’ segment of the cycle. So involved in it in fact that they didn’t feel the car stop or hear the car door open. They did however hear the, “Boys!” that followed. They finally pulled apart their mess of limbs and looked up sheepishly into the eyes of Mycroft, who was stood at the open door, his arms crossed over his chest. 

A long finger pointed at them,

“Stay right where you are.”

Mycroft walked away from the open door, revealing Greg stood a few feet behind him, his arms also crossed, the look on his face only very slightly more amused than Mycroft’s. Mycroft approached the driver’s door and leant down to talk through the window. Their voices were low and the boys couldn’t hear what they were saying, they were also too preoccupied trying to remind Da of how adorable they could be. The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. John poked Sherlock in the back,

“Lock, Lock, I saw that!”

Sherlock whipped his head around to look at John.

“Did you?!”

“Yeah I did!”

“Well done John!” Sherlock beamed at his little brother, Da’s mouth had only twitched ever so slightly, it was very smart of John to notice. But then of course John was smart, Sherlock thought to himself, he was his little brother. When Sherlock and John turned their attention back to their Da, the smile on his face was far less subtle.

“Oh stop that Gregory. I’m sure they did something adorable, they always do, but right now, both our boys are in quite a bit of trouble.” Greg raised an unimpressed eyebrow at his boys before Mycroft walked around the open door, looming over the little ones again. “Fighting? The whole way? What have we told you boys about fighting?” Mycroft looked down his nose at them.

“Not to do it.” Both boys called in unison, a well rehearsed answer to a question they had been asked many times before.

“Quite. Both of you out of the car, I must give my poor driver a day or two off to recover from driving with you two monkeys in the back.” Mycroft hooked a finger at the boys and they began to slide out, not before Sherlock sneaked a grin at John, they were monkeys, he thought. Mycroft shut the car door behind them and gave a nod to his driver who turned around and made his way back up the long drive.

Mycroft and Greg stood next to each other, looking down at their sons who were kicking their feet at the gravel in an attempt at nonchalance, it was a well used move by Sherlock but one that John had only started copying recently. 

“What are we going to do with these two then?” Greg asked Mycroft, who thought for a moment. The boys stilled and looked up at their dads waiting for their sentence. 

“Well….” Mycroft started, “Definitely corner time for both of them-”

Sherlock had a horrible feeling he knew where this was going and cut in “You can’t spank me and not John, that’s not fair!” he stamped his foot.

“You’re mean!” John pushed his big brother, who stumbled before regaining his footing and kicking out at John, thankfully missing. However in the flash of an eye the boys were in the midst of yet another round, swinging fists at each other.

“Enough!” it was Greg’s turn, he pulled out his best DI’s bark, it always stopped the boys in their tracks. Both boys stopped their fighting as Greg knew they would, but before they had a chance to untangle themselves this time, Greg was leaning over them. He administered once sharp swat to each backside (each swat followed by a yelp) before taking a boy in each hand, and turning back to his husband. “What were you saying dear?” Mycroft couldn’t help but be slightly knocked off course by his husband’s sudden burst of … whatever that was, it always made him a bit … he shook his head sharply to dislodge the thought and returned his face to his go to ‘serious dad face’. 

“As I was saying, definitely corner time for both of you. I was going to let you both off without a sore backside since Da and I know what a difficult week you’ve both had and we’ve both been so proud of all the hard work you’ve been doing...”

Sherlock and John both felt the pang of guilt in their stomach at the same time. They knew they shouldn’t have been fighting, they were both just so frustrated and it had been a long week.

“Sorry Pa,” John squeaked.

“Me too.” Sherlock nodded quite ferociously, without ever looking up from the fascinating spot on his shoe.

“Mm, apologise to your Da too please.” Mycroft coaxed. John’s head snapped back as he looked up at Greg.

“Really, really, really sorry Da.” John whispered with ever so slightly watery eyes, Greg quickly swept one stray tear off his cheek with his thumb. Sherlock tugged at Gregs sleeve and when Greg turned to look down at him, he still wasn’t looking up from his shoes but managed a “I’m really, really, really sorry too Da.”

“I know boys, tough week, eh?’ Greg offered as he smiled at Mycroft, both boys mumbled in agreement. Greg was no longer holding the two boys apart, but at some point each boy had begun clinging onto one of his arms. “But be big boys and listen to what Pa has to say.” Greg and his two little limpets turned their attention back to Mycroft.

“I certainly do not want the first thing I have to do now you’re here to be two spankings, but you have both been very very naughty. So, I think for the rest of the evening, the two of you are on parole.”

“Pole?” John asked his Pa, confused.

“P-ah-role.” Sherlock tried to correct him.

“Oh, what does that mean?” John swung forward on Greg’s arm so he could look at his brother.

“I don’t know.” Sherlock was suddenly very interested in his shoes again, but then he remembered something and jumped up and down on his toes a couple of times, proud of himself for remembering the very important information. “But Da knows, don’t you Da? It’s a p-leese … thingy, right Da? Right?”

Greg and Mycroft shared a look, they were two very lucky men. Greg looked down at Sherlock. “That’s right Lock, it is a police ‘thingy’, would you like to know what it means?”

“Pease Da?” John piped in. 

“Well, it means that for the rest of the evening, if you two boys are very, very good, then no spanks-” before Greg could finish his thought both boys were whooping. “But...” he cut back in and the boys fell silent again, “Pa and me will not be wiping the slate clean after you’ve finished your corner time. You have to be very, very good all evening, and if you’re not-”

“Then spanks?” Sherlock cut in, Mycroft almost sighed at Sherlock cutting in again, they had been working on that lately, but he decided against it, now wasn’t the time for that. Instead he finished Greg’s thoughts for him.

“Yes, any more naughtiness, any naughty behaviour at all and you will get a spanking.” both boys looked up a bit scared by this statement. “You’ll still get your one warning, as you always do when you’re misbehaving, but if you don’t listen to your warning then you will be going to bed with a red bottom, do you understand?”

“Yes.” Both boys mumbled, they weren’t happy about it, but they understood why.

“Well then,” Mycroft and Greg suddenly lightened the aura around them. “Can we please have the hugs we have been waiting for all week then?” Mycroft said with a warm smile. The boys split off each taking a dad to hug closely before giggling and switching sides. “Thank-you. I’ve made your favourite for dinner!”

“You’ve made?” Greg asked with a laugh.

“Oh, hush you.” Mycroft looked over his shoulder giving Greg a faux-stern look as he led John into the house by his hand.

“Red pas-a? John asked hopefully.

“It’s tom-a-to” (Sherlock sounded out the word slowly to make sure he got it right) “pasta, John! Not red!”

“Oh,” John thought about it, he was a bit confused but knew his big brother would clear it up for him, “buh is red though!”

“Of cors” Sherlock nodded happily to show John he wasn’t wrong, but that Sherlock was more right. “Is it tom-a-to pasta Pa?”

“Yes it is!” Mycroft answered as both boys became limp giggling at ‘pasta Pa’. Each dad lifted one boy into their arms and carried them through the front door. “But first of all, I want each of your little noses in your corners, five minutes.” Mycroft added only slightly more sternly, each boy made a slight ‘ah’ sound but didn’t kick up a fuss. Finally, they were all home.


	2. Chapter Two

Neither boy was particularly …. good … at corner time. They didn’t mean to misbehave during a time out, well sometimes they did and that never ended well for them, but sometimes they both struggled unintentionally. Sherlock would always start off properly, with his back straight, his hands at his sides and his shoulders touching either side of the corner. However, usually about a minute in, his eyes would start to wonder, often starting by following a small crack in the wall all the way up to the ceiling and from there it was anyones guess where his attention would be drawn. He would keep his feet dutifully in the corner, but often by the second minute he was turned completely around watching the specks of dust dancing in the sunlight, or trying to read the weird squiggles of writing on some of Mycroft’s leather bound books, or something else silly that had completely captured his thoughts. John, however, would rarely turn around from his spot in the corner on the opposite side of the room to Sherlock’s, but it very rarely took more than thirty seconds for him to start humming, or singing, or drumming with his palms on top of his head, or most commonly, laughing hysterically at something he remembered from a cartoon earlier in the day. 

As a result of this, five minutes of corner time usually took closer to fifteen, sometimes quite a bit longer. It could also not be done without supervision. Each boy had an egg timer, John’s was red and Sherlock’s blue. One of their dad’s would be charged with supervising corner time, and each time either boy became distracted they would stop that boy’s timer and gently (or sometimes far less gently) remind them to return to position, or to be quiet again, and once the little one had complied, the timer was restarted.

Today it was Greg’s turn to watch the boys as Mycroft made the final preparations for dinner. As expected, John was the first to lose focus, he started giggling and mumbling something that Greg thought sounded like ‘pasta pa’, his giggling got louder and finally he threw his head back and cackled. 

“John, that’s enough lad, hush now and face the wall please.”

John grumbled but did as he was told. Greg restarted John’s timer but by the time he had looked up, Sherlock was sat leaning against the wall, counting the knots of wood visible in the flooring.

“Lock, on your feet, turn around, it’s corner time.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Sherlock pushed himself up and turned back around. Greg spotted Mycroft in the doorway, ‘how are we doing?’ he mouthed. ‘Almost there,’ Greg mouthed back, Mycroft looked over at the boys and smiled before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Only two minutes left boys, be very good and we’ll be eating dinner in no time.”

It had taken just a little longer than two minutes, Sherlock had started drawing patterns onto the walls in front of him with his fingers and for a reason known only to John, John had started making loud sheep noises. Greg didn’t ask. Sherlock’s timer went off first.

“That’s you Sherlock, go into the kitchen with Pa.”

Sherlock raced out of his corner and round into the kitchen. John got visibly more antsy at this but stayed put for the extra twenty seconds or so until his timer pinged.

“Very good boy John, you’re done too!” John turned around and grinned at Greg, Greg knew that John found corner time a bit harder than Sherlock. John didn’t have a mind palace to wonder off into and he was more of a physical boy than Sherlock, he wasn’t very good at sitting or standing still at the best of times, it was all the more hard in corner time. 

“Mines was al-mos’ same as Lock’s, Da!”

“Yes it was, almost exactly the same amount of time as your big brother, you tried very hard, clever boy!” Greg pulled John into a big hug and looked down his nose at his youngest. “How about we both go and wash our hands for dinner?”

“Wash ow hans.” John nodded and skipped ahead of Greg into the kitchen. Greg was relieved to have the corner time over, after the week they’d had, he didn’t think it would be an easy task getting both boys fed, washed and into bed. The likelihood of more punishment was quite high, so with the corner time out of the way they could move onto stage two, feeding time at the zoo.

Greg walked into the kitchen and saw Sherlock already sat in his seat cross legged and trying to whistle, it was something he’d been trying to learn recently. Mycroft was serving pasta onto the plates on the table and John was stood by the sink, he looked over his shoulder at Greg, palms up in the air.

“Elp, Da?” John asked.

“What was that, monkey?”

“Elp, pease?” John help up his hands at his dad and Greg realised what he meant. John wasn’t allowed to use the taps on his own, not after the incident with the frog, or the incident with the toy boat, or the incident with the scuba mask, or the incident with … you know what, there were a lot of incidents with John and excessive water use. He wasn’t allowed to use the taps anymore. 

“Good job for not using the taps John.”

“Not ‘llowed.” John nodded, solemnly.

“No, you most certainly are not.” Mycroft added, he had been the one to tidy up after the majority of John’s ‘incidents’. Greg rolled his eyes at this, making sure John saw him, John giggled, Da was silly and a little bit naughty too, just like the boys.

Soon enough the four of them were sat in their preferred seats eating the boy’s favourite meal. Both Mycroft and Greg were blissfully happy, they hated seeing Sherlock and John get so stressed over work. Sherlock and John were the happiest they had been in weeks, although they weren’t thinking about this, they were just being their ‘little’ selves and weren’t fussing with grown up thoughts. 

“So, boys. After dinner it’s bath time-” 

“Yay!” John cheered, Mycroft rolled his eyes but continued,

“Then bed, for both of you.” Mycroft gave Sherlock a pointed look, recently Sherlock had been asking for a later bed time than his little brother. It was certainly something that his dads were considering but not tonight, they were both over-tired, most probably Sherlock more so than John as he rarely slept at all during cases and his brain was thoroughly over-worked for the entirety of a case.

“But I’m bigger!”

“Are not!”

“Boys.” Greg warned.

“You are a little older than John, you’re right Sherlock, and Da and I are considering giving you an ever so slightly later bed time-”

“Ha!” Sherlock gloated at John, John threw his fork on his plate and angrily pushed his chair from the table, very nearly toppling backwards, Mycroft seamlessly stuck out an arm, preventing the accident and firmly pushed John’s chair back to its place under the table.

“John Hamish, that’s quite enough, please pick up your fork nicely and finish your dinner.”

“But he-”

“Ah ah, John, no ‘buts’, do as you’re told please.” Mycroft gave John a look that told him he was dangerously close to his one and only warning, so he picked up his fork and silently went back to eating, or mostly stabbing, his pasta. Mycroft turned his attention back to Sherlock. “That kind of behaviour hardly shows me or your Da that you are old enough for a later bedtime, now does it Lock?”

“No.” Sherlock grumbled, resting his hand on his palm.

“No. And no matter how much bigger you may think you are than John, you are still our son, and we decide when bedtime is. Tonight, your bedtime is the same as John’s, and for both of you, bedtime is straight after your bath. There will be no fussing or fighting or you will be a very sorry little boy, do you understand me William?”

“Yes sir.” Sherlock grumbled again, noticing that Mycroft had used his first name, just as he had used John’s first and middle name. Sherlock was smart enough to know that meant no messing around, and that Mycroft expected a little bit of respect from his eldest. He supposed the last week had been quite stressful for everyone. If he was really honest with himself, it was a huge relief to let his dads make the decisions for a while, even decisions about bedtime.

“Very good, thank you Lock.” Mycroft turned his attention back to his own dinner before raising an eyebrow at the littlest one at the table. “And Master Watson, if you would be so kind as to eat your dinner, rather than stab it.” John smirked but began gently shovelling his food into his mouth. “Good boy.” Mycroft gently patted John on the head and glanced over at Greg who had long since finished his own meal and was now resting his head in his hand, exhausted but happy. “Ready for round three, Gregory?”

“You bet.” Greg gave Mycroft a smile.


	3. Chapter Three

It was always hard for Mycroft and Greg to guess which way bath time would go. Sometimes it would be the best part of the day, with both of the boys submerged in bubbles in the large sunken bath they had installed (since bathing the boys separately was rarely called for and never requested by either boy), telling each other stories and giggling at their dads noisy joints as they washed the little ones hair surrounded by a cloud of dreamy steam from the water that Greg always managed to heat just right (something Greg liked to claim was a magical skill handed to him by a beautiful fairy). Sometimes, however, it was a mess of limbs, lukewarm water flying across the room with a soundtrack of animal like howls. 

Today, to the surprise of all parties, it seemed to be a good bath time, a great bath time even. Both boys were leant back, Greg gently washing Sherlock’s hair and Mycroft, John’s. Neither boy claimed to like having their hair washed but today they were permitting it, even enjoying it. 

“What story would you like at bedtime boys?” Greg asked

“A Pa story!” Sherlock squealed, splashing his hands down on to the water.

“No splashing please, dear.” Mycroft murmured gently, trying to keep both boys as calm as possible.

“Sorry.” Sherlock whispered, trying to match Mycroft’s tone. “But Pa story,” Sherlock grinned at Mycroft, “pa-leeze?” he added as an after thought. 

“What a very polite boy you are, Lock.” Greg praised, smiling down at Sherlock as he tipped his head back, he smiled back at Greg before dramatically squeezing his eyes shut to avoid any of the deadly shampoo from getting in.

“I can absolutely tell you a story before bed, since you asked so nicely.”

“A speshal, made up one, just for me and John-John?” Sherlock tilted his head a little in Mycroft’s direction to show he was asking him, without opening his eyes.

“What about me?!” Greg asked, pretending to be terribly put out.

“For me and John-John and Da? Pa-leeze?” Sherlock corrected himself and slowly opened his eyes now that his hair was washed.

“Of course, a special story for my three boys.” Mycroft nodded and winked at Sherlock. “All done, John” John wearily opened his eyes, he was exhausted. 

“Play time now?” John looked up at Mycroft hopefully.

“No, no, John, I think it’s time for my good boys to be tucked into bed.”

“Na-huh! We hasn’t played at all, At. All. Pa!” John pushed himself up, slipping a couple of times, relying on a sudden supply of energy.

“Settle down, John.”

“Story, John-John.” Sherlock mumbled, suddenly feeling very tired himself. 

“Come on Lock,” Greg said gently as he lifted the taller of the two boys out of the bath with an ease that would have infuriated Mycroft had he seen it. Mycroft, however, was now looking sternly down at John.

“John, you will have all the time in the world to play tomorrow, and for as many days as you would like, but now, bed time.”

“No!” John slammed his open palms down on the water, kicking at the same time, he somehow managed to splash half the bath water across the room. Greg wrapped a towel around Sherlock and ushered him out and along the corridor into the boy’s bedroom, leaving Mycroft to deal with John, they had both had a suspicion that John would be the difficult one tonight.

“This is your warning, John Hamish, do you hear me?” There was no response from John, but Mycroft knew he had heard him so continued. “You are being very, very, naughty, and let me remind you that you are still on parole. Now get out of the tub, right now, it’s time for bed.”

“No.” John spoke quite quietly this time, but he was angry and determined, Mycroft knew that at any minute he could dissolve into a screaming fit.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want to play.” John wined. 

“And I have told you already, it’s not play time now, it’s bed time. Get out of the tub John.”

“You’re being mean.” Another, lighter, splash at the water.

“I most certainly am not being mean, but if you don’t get out of the tub right now, I will show you mean.”

“Not fair!” John’s hands balled into little fists and he started pummelling the water. 

“That’s it!” Mycroft leant over and grabbed John’s wrists in his hands, holding them tightly he pulled the little one to his feet before hoisting him out of the bath. Having almost lost his footing several times in the process as a result of the water splashed all over the room, Mycroft bent down and slung John over his shoulder and walked out of the bathroom, straight into the safety of his and Greg’s bedroom.

Once they were in the bedroom and Mycroft was on surer footing he became aware that John had been pounding his balled up fists against his back the entire way. He wasn’t pleased at all. He lifted John off his shoulder and put him down. When John’s feet were firmly on the floor, Mycroft held him in place and looked down with his most stern expression. 

“Just what on earth do you think you are doing young man?”

John didn’t answer but he glared back at Mycroft. “Well?”

Still no verbal answer, but John struggled against Mycroft’s grip, and when he realised he wouldn’t be able to shake him off, he huffed and stamped his foot.

“I’ve had just about enough of this silliness, John Hamish. You might only be a little boy, but you know better. You know that tantrums are not acceptable. Don’t you?”

John still refused to answer, but he was no longer wriggling against Mycroft’s grip and the older man could tell that the worst of his tantrum was over. 

“I gave you plenty of opportunities to stop being naughty, but you wouldn’t listen. I know that you are very tired and probably quite confused, but what do we always tell you to do when you feel that way? We tell you to do as we say. Listen to Da and Pa.”

“Isten.” John was now looking down at the floor and seemed to Mycroft, suddenly very small.

“That’s right, smart boy, when you don’t know what to do, you listen to us.” Mycroft let go of one of John’s arms and used the newly free hand to smooth down the mess of blond hair that had been rucked up in the tussle. “I think you are probably very very tired too. Now that you’re home, we’ll make sure you get plenty of rest.” Mycroft continued to stroke one hand through John’s hair, his other hand was now running up and down John’s back.

“Seep now?” John took a step forward and peered up at Mycroft, leaning his chin against Mycroft’s chest.

“Mm, sleep very soon little one, but first,” Mycroft took John’s hand in his and walked over to the bed, he sat down on the edge and pulled John close to him, standing him in between his legs. “Now, what did I tell you would happen if you were naughty again before bed time?”

“Spanks.” John whispered without looking up from the floor.

“That’s right. Behaviour like that requires correction young man. You do not argue with me. You do not shout at me. You do not splash water at me. You do not kick or hit out when you don’t get your way. And you most certainly do not hit me, ever, John Hamish. I am not going to ask if you understand because I know that you understand all of those things. Now lets get this over with and put some pyjamas on you before you catch cold, then we’ll go into your room and I’ll tuck you into bed.” 

Mycroft pulled John’s wrist, pulling him forward until he was lying across his knee and his palm was resting on John’s backside. A flurry of sharp swats followed, continuing for what John was sure was hours as he howled and wept, but was really only a minute or two. Mycroft only stopped when John’s bum was a fairly bright shade of red, he would have gone further given John’s behaviour but didn’t want him to be too sore to sleep. He pulled John up to stand in between his legs again, and as one of John’s hands went to rub the sting Mycroft caught his wrist. “No rubbing young man, it’s supposed to sting, you were a very naughty boy.” John sniffed and mumbled something that Mycroft couldn't quite make out, but he heard the words ‘not fair’ and got the gist of it, he delivered two sharp swats to the back of John’s right thigh in response. John let out an exhausted little yelp and looked into Mycroft’s stern, but loving eyes. “You are too smart a boy to say such a cheeky thing so soon after a spanking. Are you ready to behave now, John Hamish? Or do I need to take you over my knee again?”

John furiously shook his head no. “No, Pa, no more spanks! Be a good boy Pa, pomise.”

Mycroft smiled fondly and cupped John’s cheek as he said, “You are always a good boy, John. Sometimes you are a very, very, very naughty, good boy. But you are always a good boy.” each time he said ‘very’ he firmly tapped John on the bum. “Now, pyjama time little one.” 

After all of the fuss, John was exhausted and already half-asleep, Mycroft lay him down on the bed and manoeuvred his limbs to get him into a pull-up and a pair of robot print pyjamas (one of the pairs kept in the grown-ups room in case one of the boys had an accident in the night, or as was sometimes the case with John, a night terror that meant he refused to go back to his own bed). Once he was dressed, Mycroft lifted John onto his hip and carried him through into the boys bedroom.

Sherlock was safely tucked up in his bed, with Greg sat on the low armchair next to him stroking his hair as he told him a made up story about a rabbit called Colin. Sherlock was half asleep but woke up a little when Mycroft and John came in. Sherlock saw that John was already asleep, or at least well on the way. 

“Did John-John get spanks, Pa?”

“Mm, I’m afraid so.”

“He was norty.”

“Yes he was.”

“I wasn’t norty.”

“No, you were a very well behaved little boy.”

Sherlock finally settled completely and smiled to himself at the praise, he watched as Mycroft tucked a sleeping John into his own twin bed, just a foot or so apart from Sherlock’s. 

“Da told me a story already Pa.” Sherlock said in a stage whisper, to show just how well behaved he could be.

“How lovely, was it a good one?”

“Bestest!” Sherlock nodded and grinned at Greg, who smiled back, before ruffling Sherlocks hair. Greg kissed Sherlock on the nose and walked around to John’s bed to do the same to the sleeping baby. Mycroft walked around to Sherlock’s bed and crouched down next to him.

“You were such a good big brother during bath time, a very good example for John to look up to, I’m very proud.” Sherlock’s cheeks blushed a light pink. “I’ll make up an extra special story for bed time tomorrow.”

“An I was a good boy in corner time, today!” Sherlock reminded him.

“So you were! What a smart boy you are, my smart Sherlock.” Sherlock gave a contented sigh at the thought and Mycroft kissed his forehead. “You know where we’ll be if you need us dear. Sleep well little princes.” Mycroft walked out of the door followed by Greg who pulled the door half closed behind him.


	4. Chapter Four

Mycroft was lying stretched out on the sofa when Greg joined him, placing two small glasses of scotch on the coffee table, lifting Mycroft’s feet up and sitting down, resting his husbands legs on his lap. It had been a horrible week, and although the last couple of hours had been exhausting, they had been quite wonderful. John’s behaviour was worrying him a little bit, he usually acted out after a case if something about it had hit him on a personal level, and much like Sherlock’s, John’s past had a lot of sensitive spots that were easy targets in a criminal case. 

“I haven’t cleaned up John’s little tsunami in the bathroom.” Mycroft groaned.

“That’s why we had the room tiled, love. Some of it will dry on its own and the rest will wait. I’ll finish tidying it all up in the morning.”

“You will?”

“Of course, you’ve spent enough time mopping up after our little Aquaman.”

“Have I told you how much I love you, lately?”

“You tell me all the time dear, you just don’t know you’re doing it.”

Mycroft sighed loudly and gave Greg a lopsided smile as he started absent mindedly massaging his husbands feet. 

“Greg?”

“Mm.”

“Was there anything in this case that I should know about?”

“Know about?”

“I think something is worrying John.”

“I think you’re probably right, the case itself was all a bit, well, a bit mad really-”

“It called for Sherlock Holmes after all.”

Greg chuckled, “So it did. But there were some undercurrents that may have knocked John a little off kilter.”

“How so?”

“Good old parental abandonment.”

“Ah, that old chestnut.”

“Yeah, we’d better keep a close eye on him.”

“How did Sherlock handle it?”

“I don’t think he even noticed that side of the case to be honest, but he’s more likely to have thoughts about it, now he’s little, anyway it’s not such a sore spot for him as it is John.”

“Okay then, we go on as we always do, love them to pieces, but bare in mind that there might be some nasty thoughts bubbling up in their little heads, especially little John’s.”

“He’s a very special little boy, that one.”

“That he is. Do you think I should have tucked him into our bed instead?”

“He knows where to find us, if he needs us.” 

No sooner had Greg said this that he heard a creak of the floorboards on the stairs. He squinted through the darkness to see the outline of their youngest son. He tapped Mycroft on the leg to get his attention.

“John, is that you dear?”

“Pa?” John’s voice was terribly small, he rubbing his eyes with his balled up little fists and holding his stuffed bear, Bear, in his hand. Mycroft moved from lying down to sit up right, his back popping as he moved. Greg, now released from under Mycroft’s legs stood up and walked towards the stairs.

“Come down here, dear.”

John stumbled down the last few steps, not particularly sure on his feet. As soon as he was within reach, Greg bundled him into his arms and carried him over to the sofa placing him down next to Mycroft before sitting on his other side.

“Having trouble sleeping, little one?”

“Mm, hm.”

“You were very tired when I tucked you in.”

“Wokes.” John just about managed to mumble.

“So you did.” Mycroft settled back, sitting against the arm of the sofa with his legs straight out in front of him, his feet touching Greg’s thighs, he lifted John onto his lap. The little one instantly rested his head against Mycroft’s chest and pulled Bear up to his chin. Greg settled against the other arm of the sofa, watching John and Mycroft together with a lopsided smile. “So what will it be, champ? Some milk and then bedtime-”

“Nooo.” John whined. 

“Bedtime, with me and Da?” Mycroft finished his thought. John titled his head up to look at his Pa.

“Bedtime, with Da and Pa?”

“That’s right, would you like that?”

“Mmmm.” John nodded and rested his cheek back against Mycroft’s chest. 

“I’ll get you some milk, little one.” Greg rubbed John’s foot as he stood up, groaning as he did. John giggled.

“Da old.” John giggled, peering up at Greg with a half open eye. Mycroft chuckled as Greg bent down to tickle under John’s chin.

“What was that, little monkey? Did you call your Da old? Cheeky thing.” Greg kissed John on the forehead and moved towards the kitchen.

“He’s not wrong.” Mycroft muttered.

“Mm, and he’s also not the only one who’ll be going to bed with a red backside.” Greg added with an eyebrow firmly raised in his husbands direction.

“Sorry, dear.”

“So I should think. Warm milk, for the monkey?”

“I think so, what do you think John, warm milk?

“Wom.” John nodded.

“Warm it is,” Greg said mostly to himself as he put the bottle in the microwave. When Greg returned to Mycroft and John, John’s head was resting on Mycroft’s chest, Mycroft took the bottle and held it to John’s mouth as he sleepily drank the milk. Greg sat back down on the sofa.

“When he’s finished that, I’ll carry him up to bed.”

“Will you now? Even though you’re so old?” Mycroft leant down to kiss the top of John’s head as he giggled.

“Ay! What am I going to do with you two trouble makers, eh?” Greg leant forwards to tickle John’s tummy, “You’re just like your Pa aren’t you, trouble, trouble, trouble.” As Greg said it, he realised he had unintentionally used one of his well honed techniques to settle John. Reminding him that he had dad’s that loved him was always a go to move, but telling him the ways that he was just like them always seemed to work wonders. Mycroft had told Greg that these things reinforced the feeling of a traditional, loving, family that John desperately needed.

“Yeh!” John smiled broadly. Mycroft moved the empty bottle away from John’s lips and put it down on the table.

“Come on then monkey, time for you and your naughty Pa to be in bed.” Greg stood up and moved over to John who was holding his arms out for Greg to lift him up, in one swift motion he was on Greg’s hip with his head resting on his shoulder, Bear held loosely in a sleepy hand. Mycroft stood to follow them, making a series on undignified noises himself. “And I’m the old one?” Greg asked looking over his shoulder at Mycroft, who instinctively smacked Greg’s ass. “Oy, not while I’m holding the baby, Myc.”

“Excuses, excuses Gregory.” Mycroft mumbled as the three of them made their way up the stairs. As he passed the boys bedroom, Mycroft checked in on Sherlock who was fast asleep, he really must have been exhausted from the case. He couldn't help but creep in and tuck a stray foot back under the covers before kissing him on the forehead. “I love you, so much, sweet boy,” he whispered, he thought he saw Sherlock’s eyelids flutter just a little, but he was so fast asleep there was no response and Mycroft left to join Greg and John in their bedroom.

Greg had already tucked John under the covers in the middle of the bed and was pulling off his t-shirt and jeans. John was playing with bear, holding him at arms length, then pulling him towards his face and going cross-eyed in the process, this would make him giggle sleepily and repeating the process. Mycroft took the opportunity of a distracted John to get changed into his own silk pyjama bottoms and a cotton t-shirt and join Greg in sliding into bed on either side of their boy. Greg flicked off the light on his side and put an arm around John, holding him close.

“Time to sleep now, little one.” Greg murmured softly as he kissed John on the top of his head.

“Pa seep too?” John asked.

“I’ve just got a little bit of work to do on my phone first, John, then I’ll turn off my light and go to sleep just like Da and John.”

“Kay.” John agreed to the arrangement and shut his eyes, listening to Greg’s heartbeat. 

“Not too long, eh Myc, you need sleep too.”

“Yes dear.” Mycroft smiled at Greg who’s eyes were shut too, Mycroft decided to turn off the light on his side and read his emails by the light of his phone instead. Half an hour later he decided that he’d managed to hold off any disasters for another day and put down his phone, settling down to sleep himself.


	5. Chapter Five

Mycroft was woken up by a strange noise in the distance. There was the occasional, light, thump noise that he could explain away as the wind, but he was most disturbed by what seemed to be the sound of people he didn’t know talking. He checked his phone, he had been known to fall asleep on a conference call before (that had never once happened before John and Sherlock became his boys). There was no one on the other end of the phone, thank god, he turned over to see that Greg was still fast asleep. Suddenly he remembered that John had slept in their bed, but John wasn’t there, fuck! His relief at the phantom voices not coming from his phone had drained very quickly as he concluded that the voices must be coming from somewhere in the house and his youngest son was god knows where. He stood up very quietly, wincing at the sound of floor boards creaking, and made his way towards the bedroom door where he had leant his umbrella. He picked up the umbrella and made his way out onto the landing. The voices were noticeably louder now. 

He descended the first four steps then paused as he approached the corner, once he rounded that, he would be visible to the men in the living room. He took one last step forwards and turned.

“Boys!” he shouted, more out of relief than anything. Sherlock and John almost jumped out of their skin and turned from their spot a foot or two from the telly to look at their Pa.

Mycroft glanced at the television screen to see the brightly coloured owners of the oh so dangerous voices he had been about to ambush. 

“What have they done?” Greg asked groggily, leaning over the banister at the top of the stairs to look at Mycroft. He was pulling on his dressing gown and practically sleep walking. 

“Oh, sorry dear, I didn’t mean to wake you. I heard voices and thought there was someone in the house.” Mycroft almost winced at the exhausted look on Greg’s face, he, however, just smiled down at Mycroft before starting to descend the stairs himself. Mycroft decided to continue down into the living room before Greg knocked him over.

“Gave you a fright, did they?”

“I’m afraid so. Right,” Mycroft clapped his hands together once and stepped towards the boys whose attention was back on the television. “Boys.” their attention turned back to their Pa. “I have a few questions to ask you two and Sherlock, since you’re the oldest, you can answer for you and your brother.” Sherlock instantly puffed up with pride and neither Mycroft or Greg could miss the look of relief on John’s face, answering questions could be difficult. “So, why are you both up so early? Why are you out of bed without permission? Why are you watching cartoons without permission? Why are you sat so close to the television? And why must the television be on so loud?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he finished his list of questions. Sherlock thought for a moment and John looked at him, John had already forgotten the questions, he was glad it was Sherlock’s job to answer.

“We up early cos we’re not asleep anymore. We is out of bed cos you was asleep an we couldn’t wake you up. We is-”

“It’s we are, Sherlock, you know that.” Although Sherlock’s grasp on speaking was much, much weaker when he was young and he was probably making the mistakes without realising, Mycroft had a sinking suspicion Sherlock’s subconscious was trying to get around answering his questions properly. That probably meant there wasn’t a good answer to them, or an answer that Sherlock knew Mycroft would be happy with. The honest answer was most likely, I woke up and wanted to watch cartoons. I saw that John was up and he also wanted to watch cartoons so we snuck down here to do just that, even though we knew we weren’t allowed. We were so excited by the cartoons that we ended up with our eyes dangerously close to the television screen and unfortunately, we didn’t realise the television was loud enough for us to be caught.

“We are watching cartoons cos they is-

“Are.”

“Are fun. We are sat near the telly to see the cartoons and the telly are loud-

“Is loud, Sherlock.”

“Hm!” Sherlock had been growing steadily more frustrated and it finally bubbled over. A balled up fist smacked the rug.

“Sherlock-”

“I think he was getting confused, Myc.”

“Well I think he is a very clever boy who knows better. Nose in the corner, Sherlock, five minutes.”

Sherlock stared up at Mycroft, wide eye’d, how was he in trouble already? He wasn’t even supposed to be out of bed yet. He pushed himself up with a sigh and dragged his feet over to the corner as Mycroft retrieved his blue egg timer from the shelves and looked down at a little John at his feet. If Sherlock wasn’t willing to give Mycroft the answers to his questions, he would try the little one.

“John, who woke up first, you or Sherlock?” John whipped his head around to look at his brother for the answer. “Ah, ah, ah, look at me please.” John’s shoulders drooped as he turned back to look at Mycroft. “Who woke up first, you or Sherlock?”

“Lock.”

“Okay, and when did you first see Sherlock?”

“When e came in tha room.”

“The bedroom, with me and Da?”

“Yeh.” John nodded.

“Okay, why did you get out of bed John?”

“Not ah-seep any more.”

“Did you follow Lock downstairs?”

“A-huh.” John nodded again, his Pa seemed to be understanding.

“John, did you remember that watching cartoons without me or Da is naughty?” John went quiet and started picking a loose strings on the rug. “John?”

“Onee a bit norty tho Pa.”

“Ah, so you both knew you were being naughty when you came downstairs to watch cartoons. John go and stand in your corner too, please.”

“Oww.” John moaned, but stood up and walked to his corner.

“I’ll start your timers now-”

“But I’ve been stood ages!” Sherlock suddenly piped up.

“Yes, but I was trying to get the answers to the questions I asked you, the questions that you wouldn’t answer properly. Five minutes, from now, if you want to keep arguing Sherlock, I can make yours seven.”

“No!” Sherlock quickly turned back to face the wall.

“Good boys.” Mycroft started off the timer’s and the light ticking sound continued as the boys were in time out. Mycroft was peering round the corner into the kitchen, where he could smell toast and coffee, Greg was a pretty perfect husband. He found himself wandering off into his mind palace when Greg nudged him and handed him a mug of coffee,

“You’re supposed to be watching them, you know, and not daydreaming. I should put you in the corner.”

“Very funny.” Mycroft mumbled as he turned his attention back to the boys and Greg disappeared back into the kitchen, Mycroft could hear the boys giggling. “Yes, yes, your Da is very funny, but stop giggling and be quiet or I’ll stop your timers. Both boys fell silent and the timers continued to tick. John finished first are raced into the kitchen to join Greg so quickly that he almost fell over twice. Mycroft waited with Sherlock as he finished his time (his timer had been stopped for a little while when he became distracted by a particularly noisy fly). “Right,” Mycroft called when Sherlock’s timer pinged. “All done Lock, come here for a moment please.”

Now that Mycroft had had the chance to wake up, he realised that what Greg had earlier was most probably right, Sherlock had just been confused. Not about the questions or the grammar that Mycroft kept correcting him on, but by the fact that the horrible pressure of the last few days were over and that he was safe and it was all a bit too much.

Sherlock shuffled over to Mycroft and looked up at him.

“Now then, young man. You know that you were breaking all sorts of rules this morning, don’t you?”

Sherlock shuffled his feet and nodded, now pulling lightly at the front of Mycroft’s t-shirt.

“And I know that you think they were just silly, little rules, but all of the rules me and Da make are for a reason and that’s why you had a time out, do you understand?”

“Mm hm, hasta follow tha rules.”

“That’s right, you and John both have to follow the rules. I know it always takes you a bit of time to settle when you come home, it’s all a bit overwhelming, isn’t it?”

Sherlock looked up at Mycroft this time and nodded enthusiastically, glad that he understood. He hadn’t really been trying to be bad, it was all a bit much when he woke up in his bed and realised he was home, he was so overwhelmed with relief he didn’t really know what to do, so he did something naughty. Sherlock was so relieved that Mycroft understood that he suddenly wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. Mycroft hugged him back even harder and kissed him on the top of his head, once, twice, three times, for good measure. 

“Are you ready for breakfast then, cuddle monster”

“Ahuh!” 

“Right, lets find Da and John.” Mycroft went to turn around and walk to the kitchen but Sherlock grabbed at his t-shirt and hopped up and down on his toes, something he did when he knew what he considered to be an important bit of information.

“I know where they are!” Mycroft couldn’t help but grin down at the adorable boy.

“Do you? Well, where are they then, clever boy?”

“In the kitchen!”

“Are they? I had no idea! We could have been looking for days!”

“I work’d it out Pa, just like Da does at his job!”

“So you did, just like Da, maybe you could be a Detective Inspector.”

“Ahuh! When I’m bigger-er.” Sherlock nodded once, as though it was now a done deal that when he was ‘bigger-er’ he would certainly be a DI, like Greg.

“Right then, clever boy, lead the way.” Mycroft stepped out of Sherlock’s path so he could walk through to the kitchen.

“Guess what?!” Sherlock shouted as he made his way through the door into the kitchen.

“What, Lock?” John asked, grinning and sitting on his chair swinging his legs.

“I’m gunna be a spective spector when I’m big!”

“Wow!” John’s jaw dropped open, he had no idea what that was but it sounded very cool. “Can I be a ‘sphsh sphsh’ too, Lock?”

“Ahuh John-John, a’cors!” Sherlock nodded at John with a grin and John looked at Mycroft aghast at how lucky he was. Greg caught Mycroft’s eye as he was putting breakfast on the table, he was completely confused so Mycroft thought he would help him out.

“Yes, both Sherlock and John are going to be Detective Inspectors when they are big.”

“Ohhh.” Greg sighed finally understanding, then adding an excited “Oh!” when his brain caught up. “Just like your Da eh? Three Detective Inspectors all in one family, we’ll be running London before you know it.”

“Yay!” John cheered.

“God help us.” Mycroft muttered as he pulled out Sherlock’s seat to help him sit down. He pushed the chair under the table once Sherlock was sitting and sat in his own seat looking at the table filled with toast, and bacon and jars of different jams and some kind of sweet pastry amongst other tasty looking treats. “You have out done yourself, dear.”

“Yeah, I’ve been making mental notes of what I fancied all week-” Greg grimaced when he heard what he said, realising that it might make the boys feel guilty in some way, but luckily neither one had heard him, they were too preoccupied with all of the food in front of them.

“Can I ave one of them, Da?” Sherlock pointed to the strawberry tarts. 

“Absolutely, Myc, one for you?” Greg asked but Mycroft didn’t answer, he was watching John who suddenly seemed a bit confused and upset. Greg decided to leave Mycroft to it with John and started filling his own plate and cutting up Sherlock’s breakfast.

“There are a lot of things to choose from, aren’t there John?”

John looked away from the table of food and up at Mycroft, he nodded.

“How about I pick a few things, and you and I can share?”

John nodded happily and before Mycroft could start putting things onto plates, John had got off of his seat and climbed up onto Mycroft’s lap.

“That’s not quite what I-” Mycroft stopped himself, John seemed much more relaxed on Mycroft’s lap and he quite liked having him sit there. He kissed the top of his head. “Let’s try one of the pastries that Da and Lock are having, shall we? You can have the first bite.”

“Kay.” Mycroft cut of a piece of pastry and John opened his mouth, waiting. Mycroft chuckled to himself and fed him the first of what quickly became many mouthfuls of pie.

Before long the foursome had managed to eat an almost obscene amount of food and Mycroft’s right eyebrow was sore from being raised at each of Sherlock’s not very subtle jokes about his waistline. 

“Right well we had all better wash our hands, then I shall get started on clearing this mess up. Say thank you to Da for breakfast, boys.”

“Thanks, Da.” they sung in unison.

“You’re all very welcome.”

“What are you three going to get up to while I do some cleaning?” Mycroft asked the boys, but mostly Greg.

“Well, it’s not raining so I think we’ll go and play in the garden for a bit, then some colouring before nap time.” Greg whispered ‘nap time’ just in case the boys decided to kick up a fuss well in advance.

“That sounds lovely.”

“Football, Da?!” John asked jumping off of Mycroft’s lap.

“I should think so.” John punched the air and Sherlock’s shoulders slumped just a little bit, football was one of the very few things that little John was better than him at. 

After a number of fights that started with what should have been a good natured kick about, Greg had threatened to ban ball games all together. However, Mycroft had encouraged him to stick with it. He liked that Greg played rough and tumble games with the boys and it gave Sherlock a chance to play in a way that he was never allowed to as a child, it also played into Mycroft’s desire to recreate a very wholesome family atmosphere for the boys. Both Greg and Mycroft were also sure that it would do little Sherlock, and maybe even big Sherlock, a lot of good to play something with John that John was better at. And, of course, as with everything that Sherlock Holmes ever tried, he was getting better and better at it all the time, improving his coordination and physical fitness could only be a good thing.

And so, Mycroft and Greg stood by the back door, pulling knitted jumpers over the boy’s heads and tightly fastening the velcro on their trainers before opening the door and letting them race off into the garden like wild horses. Greg knelt down to do the laces on his own trainers and Mycroft added, “Watch your hip, Grandpa,” before Greg grabbed him in a kiss to stop him speaking.


	6. Chapter Six

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes!”

Mycroft knocked against the window over the kitchen sink, for a brief moment, horrible moment, he was stuck wondering how many times his mother must have done the exact same thing. He dried his hands on a towel and roughly threw it down onto the counter top as he walked to the backdoor, swinging it open. Greg was lifting John up out of a particularly large puddle, as Greg moved John onto his hip, Mycroft could see the full extent of the damage, John was covered head to foot in thick mud. Sherlock was stood a couple of feet away, there wasn’t a speck of mud on him and he was swinging his arms at his sides trying to look innocent. Greg quickly made his way into the house holding a crying John and was on his way to the bathroom when Mycroft moved to stand in the door way, arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“I saw everything, young man. Now come here.” Mycroft pointed one long index finger down at the spot in front of his feet. He could see the conflict in Sherlock’s eyes as he considered arguing, but one arched eyebrow had Sherlock dragging his feet in the direction of his Pa. He already knew this wasn’t going to be good, he certainly didn’t want to make it any worse. As soon as Sherlock stepped within Mycroft’s wingspan, his ear was taken in a vice like grip.

“Ow, ow, ow, ow!” Sherlock bent his head back and forth trying to get away from Mycroft, but it wasn’t working. Instead Mycroft pulled him into the kitchen and thought about slamming the door behind them, however his mind wandered to the sad little John most probably sitting in the bath upstairs and he pulled the door shut quietly. Mycroft made long strides towards his study. It was one of the three bedrooms advertised when they bought the house and Greg had spent some time turning it into Mycroft’s ‘work away from work’, only it was far more cosy than his other offices. It was the only room in the house that the boys were not allowed in without having one of their dad’s with them. Because of this, the boys were really only ever taken into the study when they needed a serious telling-off, or worse. Sherlock’s heart sank as he saw which door they were walking towards.

Mycroft opened the door to his study and pulled Sherlock inside, shutting the door behind them. He walked over to the high-backed seat behind his desk, still pulling Sherlock’s ear (and Sherlock with it) along as he went. Once he was sat down he pulled Sherlock to stand in between his legs and held him in place with his hands on his waist. 

“Sherlock, why did you do that?” it was quite a simple question, and Sherlock should have been able to answer, but he couldn’t. He shrugged and Mycroft instantly replied with a hard swat to his backside. “You are in very serious trouble, young man, you do not shrug at me! Now, answer me Sherlock, why did you hurt your brother?”

“Didn’t mean to.” was just about all Sherlock could manage to say. He had felt the anger rising in his stomach the first couple of times John had skipped past him, football at his feet. By the fourth time, the sound of John’s giggles as he moved effortlessly with the ball made Sherlock furious. He had pushed John over, kicked him, hard, and pushed his face down into the mud until he was sure his little brother couldn’t breathe. That was when his Da had pushed him away and Mycroft had appeared at the window.

“You most certainly did mean to! What did John do that made you think it was okay to hurt him?” Mycroft wasn’t fuming in the way he had been when he had first seen Sherlock’s behaviour, he knew John was safe and would probably be quite alright after a warm bath and some attention from Greg. But all the same, he was still cross with Sherlock and knew that the behaviour deserved some hefty punishment. 

“He laughed.”

“He laughed.” Mycroft sighed and moved his hands from Sherlock’s waist to his wrists, which he gently held, running the pad of his thumbs back and forth to comfort the boy just a little bit. 

“At me.”

“I was watching the whole time, Sherlock, John did not laugh at you, he was laughing, but that was because he was having fun, having fun playing with his big brother.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“But it’s not fair! It’s not fair that he can do it and I can’t!”

“There, Sherlock, there’s the reason you hurt John, you see? You were cross because there is something that John can do, that you find difficult.”

“Zactly! It’s not fair!” Sherlock stomped a foot at this.

“Oh, little boy, I would be very careful if I were you.” Mycroft threatened in a low tone and Sherlock instantly shrunk a few inches. “Now, you see, there are many many things in this world that John Watson finds very hard, but that Sherlock Holmes finds very easy. Does John push and kick Sherlock every time this happens?” Sherlock avoided Mycroft’s gaze and Mycroft tightened his grip on Sherlock ever so slightly.

“No.”

“No, he doesn’t. In fact Sherlock, in life, there are endless things that will happen that we wont like, but we don’t get to go around hurting people because of it. This family is better than that, you are better than that. Do you hear me, Sherlock?”

“Yes.”

“And will you ever behave that way again?”

“No.”

“No what, William?!”

“No, sir.”

“Thanks right, no sir. Now,” Mycroft moved his hands to Sherlock’s trousers and began to pull them down, Sherlock instantly began to fight him, trying to hold them up.

“No, Pa!” Mycroft swatted the back of each of Sherlock’s hands once.

“Oh, don’t you ‘no Pa’ me, young man! Your behaviour was atrocious and I intend to give you a very good reason never to repeat it!” Mycroft pulled Sherlock’s trousers down to his ankles and his pants quickly joined them. Mycroft manoeuvred the now noisily repentant Sherlock over his lap and wrapped his left arm tightly around him to hold the boy in place. Before Sherlock could mumble another apology Mycroft was furiously landing smacks on his bottom.

“I don’t ever want to hear that you have behaved the way again, Sherlock, and if you do, I can promise you it wont just be my hand that smacks you!” Mycroft continued to paint Sherlock’s behind a uniform red colour. He continued until Sherlock’s cries of ‘sorry’ turned into light sobs and he picked him up, standing him back in front of him. “Have you learnt your lesson? Hm?” Sherlock nodded and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. Mycroft pulled the boy onto his lap, shushing him as he complained about sitting on his sore bum and kissing him on his forehead and holding him close. “You can be such a naughty boy sometimes Sherlock.”

“Sorry.” Sherlock mumbled and Mycroft chuckled to himself, kissing him over and over on the top of his head.

“I know, little one, I know. You won’t be doing that again in a hurry, now will you?”

“No sir.”

“That’s right.” Mycroft still held onto Sherlock but leant past him to the arm chair in the corner of the room, he picked up a cushion and placed it on the floor directly next to his chair and an inch or so behind one of the wooden pillars of the desk. “Now,” Mycroft ushered Sherlock off his lap, gently pulled up his pants and trousers and pointed to the cushion. “While we wait for your Da to come and tell us how John is, I am going to get on with some work-” Sherlock immediately began to fuss thinking he was going to be sent away from Mycroft, Mycroft in turn shushed him and rubbed his hand up and down his back as he spoke softly but firmly. “And you, and going to sit your sorry bum on that cushion, right by my feet where I can keep an eye on you.” Mycroft gently pressed on Sherlock’s shoulders until he was sat cross legged on the cushion, he took the boys shoulders in his hands and turned him until he was facing the broad wooden leg of the desk. 

Mycroft opened one of the desk drawers and took out a small coin (leftover from a trip somewhere) and he placed it against the wooden leg of the desk with his finger, holding it in front of Sherlock’s face. “And you are going to hold that penny there with your nose, and think about the apology you are going to give to your brother.” Sherlock shuffled a little, unable to get comfortable sitting on his bottom, but leant forward and pressed his nose against the coin, holding it in place. Mycroft took his finger away and gently stroked Sherlock’s hair. “Good boy.” At hearing those words Sherlock instantly relaxed and did as he was told, holding the penny with his nose and thinking about his apology to John-John.


	7. Chapter Seven

John was sat in the warm bath with his knees pulled up to his chest, he wasn’t sure why but he didn’t feel much like playing with any of the toys in the basket right now. Greg was slowly washing the mud out of his hair and massaging his scalp as he went. John had quietened down a lot and was only let out of the odd sad whimper every couple of minutes, still, it broke Greg’s heart to see him like this. 

“John, poppet, after we get you wrapped up in some warm jammies, we’ve still got a bit of time before your nap, what you like to do?”

John tilted his head on his knees so he was looking at Greg, he shrugged. “Not sure, eh?”

“Mm.”

“Well, how about we cuddle on the sofa and watch some cartoons,”

John scrunched up his face and shook his head back and forth.

“Dun wan time-out, Da.”

“No, John, remember you’re allowed to watch them if Da or Pa are there.”

“I is?” John sat up straight and dropped his hands into the water by his sides looking up at Greg, a bit confused. Greg stood and dried his hands before picking up a large fluffy towel.

“Yep, tell you what, when we’re sat on the sofa in a little bit, you and me will have a look at the list of house rules to help you remember them.”

John nodded at this, it was a good idea he thought, there were a lot of rules and they were hard to remember. When he saw that Greg was holding out the towel he climbed up out of the bath (keeping two hands on the side of the bath all the time, one of Pa’s little ‘safety’ rules), as soon as his feet were on the bath mat Greg wrapped him up and began to dry him off.

“Kay, cos I dun wan any more time-outs, cos time-outsa hard.”

“I know they are, but you did really well this morning didn’t you? Your timer even went off before Sherlock’s! Isn’t that grown up of you, eh?” Greg looked down proudly at John, poking him on the nose.

“Uh-huh! Big boy!”

“You are a big boy. So, we’ll have a cuddle and watch cartoons and practice remembering the rules?”

“Wif Lock?”

“Mm, maybe little one, Sherlock might still be in a time-out.”

“Still? Dassa long time-out.”

“Well, you’re big brother wasn’t very nice to you John.”

“E was paying wif me like a big boy.” Greg sighed at this, little John was always trying to impress his big brother, he would happily be pushed around if he thought it would convince Sherlock he was a good playmate.

“That’s not how big boys play, John, that’s too rough even for big boys, it’s not nice and your brother knows that.”

“Oh, o-kay.” John nodded solemnly and stepped into the pull-up that Greg held in front of him, holding onto Greg’s shoulders to keep his balance. “Why jim-jams in tha day, Da?”

“I thought they would be nice after the bath.” Greg pulled John’s pyjama top over his head as he giggled.

“Why a baff in tha day, Da?”

Greg smiled down his nose at John before crouching down to guide his legs into his pyjama bottoms. “Because you were all covered in mud, remember John?”

John laughed, “I forgot.” He suddenly threw his head back, laughing loudly.

Little John often forgot things, Mycroft had told Greg that this was a part of the release he needed from his adult life of worrying about every little thing Sherlock did or didn’t do. When he was little, he was very much a ‘live in moment’ kind of boy.

“Alright, alright, I suppose you’re feeling better, silly goose?”

“Ah-huh.” John nodded happily.

“Well, let’s go downstairs then.”

“For ‘toons?”

“Yep.”

Greg and John walked down the stairs, John holding the banister in one hand and Greg with the other. When they reached the bottom, Greg swooped John up into his arms, carrying him over to the sofa and making aeroplane sounds as John kicked his feet and laughed. Once John had landed on the sofa, Greg tucked a blanket around him and handed him the television remote.

“Anything you like, champ, but don’t press play until I come back.” Mycroft had installed an impressively secure parental lock on the one and only telly in the house. Nothing inappropriate ever got through and it was so hard to unlock that even an adult Sherlock couldn’t work it out. His attempts had lead to a rare ‘grow-up’ spanking for Sherlock, when he grew frustrated trying to find a horror movie to scare Mycroft on family movie night (which these days happened whether the boys were big or little), the series of passwords were impossible to guess and Sherlock flung the remote at Mycroft’s head, he ducked and the remote smashed a vase. Sherlock did not sit comfortably for a good week.

Greg walked into the kitchen to get some juice and snacks for the little one as John happily scrolled through the choice of cartoons. Once the snacks were prepared, he picked up the colourful, laminated list of rules off of the pin board and walked back into the living room. 

“Here we go.” Greg announced as he walked into the living room, John was having a bit of trouble narrowing down his choices of cartoon, he very rarely got to pick what to watch himself, Sherlock always did it, even when their dads had told them it was John’s turn. Greg heard some movement coming from Mycroft’s study and made his way back towards the kitchen. “I’ll be two minutes, John, don’t press play!” 

As Greg entered the kitchen, Mycroft opened the door to his study and stood in the doorway, he looked over his shoulder and called “I’m still watching you, Sherlock”. Greg heard a quiet, “Yes sir.” in response and raised an eyebrow in Mycroft’s direction.

“Sherlock has been punished, and we’ve had a long conversation about why we don’t lash out at people, least of all our little brother, haven’t we Sherlock?”

“Yes sir.” the small voice called from Mycroft’s study.

“I think Sherlock is ready to apologise now, if John is ready to hear it?”

“I’m sure he is, he’s in the living room watching some cartoons, I’m sure he’d love to do that with Sherlock, once he’s had his apology.”

“Come on then Lock, lets go and see your brother.”

A very sorry looking Sherlock walked past Mycroft into the kitchen, Mycroft put his hands on his shoulders and guided him through into the living room where John was watching something loud and colourful. When John saw Sherlock, he jumped up onto his knees and pointed at the television screen.

“Look, Lock, spaceman!”

“Cool!” Sherlock walked away from Mycroft, drawn towards the screen. Mycroft cleared his throat, loudly and Sherlock stopped, remembering about his apology. He walked over to the sofa and stood next to it, looking at John. “John-John, I’m really, really, really, really sorry I hurted you. I was cross becos you can play football and I can’t. I wont do it again, pomise.” Sherlock sighed once the words were out and felt himself tearing up a bit, he felt much better the second John broke out into a large grin.

“S okay, Lock, I okay, see!?” John held out his arms and legs in front of him and wiggled his fingers and toes. Sherlock giggled and John looked over to their dads, “Can we watch toons now?”

“Yes you can.” Mycroft nodded, “But for thirty minutes, and not a minute more, that’s more than enough to rot your brains. Now, which one of us gets to stay and watch with them?” he added turning to Greg.

“I’ll do it, I actually quite enjoy them.” Greg sat down on the sofa next to the boys, who were now completely tangled up in a hug as they stared at the telly.

“I know you do, and I find that deeply concerning.” Mycroft kissed Greg on the cheek as he went back to his study to make the most of the quite half an hour.

It was about an hour before Mycroft finally tore himself away from his work. He had completely lost track of the time and it was only when the noise from the other room started growing that he stretched and stood up from his desk. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t quite like the … tone, of the noise coming from the living room. He quietly walked out into the kitchen just in time to hear,

“John-John stupid!” followed by a loud cackle from Sherlock. Mycroft strode into the living room. Greg was sat of the sofa holding the list of rules that they usually had pinned up in the kitchen. Both boys were sat on the floor, (Mycroft noticed that Sherlock was sitting up on his knees in an attempt to save his sore backside) facing Greg, Sherlock was still laughing, Greg had his head in his hands and John looked on the verge of a meltdown.

“William.” Mycroft murmured in a low voice that was even more effective than a shout. Sherlock turned his attention to his Pa, his eyes big, chewing on his lips. Mycroft opened his mouth but before any more admonishment could happen, a suddenly very cross little John shoved his big brother who toppled over off his knees. 

It was turning out to be a very exhausting day for both dads, and they hadn’t even had lunch yet. If they were honest, they had been expecting this, the first day home after a long case was always quite difficult as the boys let out their emotions and frustrations on each other. It took a toll on everyone, but Mycroft and Greg knew that as tired as they were, the boys were exhausted, and Mycroft was beginning to realise for whatever reason, this case had affected them in ways that would need to be worked out over the course of the week. 

Mycroft was about to continue when Greg rallied, putting down the list and standing up. He moved between the two boys and looked down at them.

“That’s enough. You both need to calm down.” He reached down and picked each boy up with one arm. “Into your corners.” Greg sent them on their way with a swat to their bum. Once each boy was in his corner, Greg continued. “No timers, you’re going to stand there until I think you are both calm enough. Then we are going to have lunch, and I will tuck you both in for a nap, no arguments! You have both already been spanked by Pa since you got home, and I can tell you, you are both very very close to going over my knee, so for the sake of both your bottoms I suggest you behave!” Greg turned to look at Mycroft, they shared an exhausted, sympathetic look at each other before Mycroft pulled him towards the kitchen door. “Go and take a break for five minutes,” he whispered into his ear, this was code for a quick cigarette in the garden. “I’ll watch them.”

Greg gave Mycroft a loving look and kissed him before walking quickly out into the now cold and wet back garden.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the lovely response so far, you are all gloriously wondeful people. This little world has been bubbling around in my head for a while so I thought I'd get it out there. I'll keep chipping away at it.

After a few minutes alone in the garden, Greg made his was back into the kitchen. In the distance he could hear Mycroft talking to the boys and he quietly stepped over to the kitchen door. In the sitting room he could see Mycroft sat on the sofa with a boy on either side of him. He had his arms wrapped around them, Sherlock’s head on his shoulder and John snuggled up against his chest. Every now and then he would run a hand through their hair or kiss them on their heads. 

“I know, I know.” he said softly, “Hush now, Da and I love you so so much, you’re such good boys.”

Greg smiled to himself and was surprised when he rubbed his eyes to find that he was crying. He wiped away his tears and went about very quietly making some sandwiches for lunch, he kept quiet so he wouldn’t disturb the boys, but also so he could hear what Mycroft was saying.

“We’ve missed you so much. You know we wish you were here all the time, even when you’re feeling a bit bigger. It’s been a tough week for you both, but it’s okay now, because you’re home. You’re home now. You can do whatever you want to do, you can just be yourselves now. But you mustn't hurt each other, do you hear? You mustn't do that.”

“Ba wha if that’s what I wanna do?” John piped up, Greg couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at that. It was one of things they both struggled with as relatively new parents, letting the boys be themselves, but stopping them from doing things they shouldn’t.

“Well then John Hamish Watson, you will get your naughty little bottom smacked.” Mycroft finished the sentence with a particularly loud kiss on John’s forehead as he patted his bum. “It’s okay if you want to do that, but you mustn’t actually do it, if you want to push your brother over or twist his arm or any of those naughty things you two have been doing lately, then you tell me or Da and we will talk to you about it.”

“Cos if we do it, we get smacks.” Sherlock said, understanding.

“Mm, and quite right too.” Mycroft gave Sherlock a kiss. “Because you both understand why we have to sometimes give you a spanking, don’t you? Because you’re our boys, and we love you so much, and it’s our job as your Da and Pa to show you what is right and what is wrong, and even though you don’t like it, and we don’t like it either, sometimes, because you can both be very naughty boys, we have to punish you. It doesn’t mean we don’t love you very very much. The truth is, there is nothing in this world that either of you could do that would stop us loving you more than anything. Whether you are big or small, there is nothing that would stop us loving you.”

Greg was unfortunately reduced to a bit of a snivelling mess by Mycroft’s words, luckily Sherlock was about to bring him out of it with his next comment.

“Even when we kill-ed sum one you still loved us.” Sherlock nodded.

“We?” John added.

Greg had been stunned to hear Sherlock mention that unpleasant mess, but he just about held back a loud bark of laughter at John’s quiet comment.

“Mm, we still love you. Although grown up Sherlock saw the painful end of Mycroft’s cane for that, now didn’t he?”

“Owee.” Sherlock nodded again and rubbed his bum, remembering that painful evening.

“We will always love you two, you little monsters.” Mycroft kissed them both again and pulled them in even tighter than before. “Now, I think it’s time for some lunch, and then it is definitely nap time for the two of you, you’re both still horribly over tired.” Just as Mycroft finished his thought, Greg walked into the room holding a plate of small sandwiches, with two sippy cups of juice hanging from his fingers.

“I thought we could eat our lunch in here today,” he said as he put the plate down on the coffee table.

“Gregory-”

“I know, I know, it’s not civilised enough for you, but I didn’t think you’d want to put those two down any time soon.” He nodded his head towards the boys who were clinging tightly to Mycroft.

“Mm, that’s very true. Just this once.”

“Lovely,” Greg clapped his hands together and settled himself on his knees on the floor between Mycroft and the boys, and the coffee table. “Now, it’s just tiny little sandwiches for lunch, so Sherlock, I want you to eat at least two, and the same for you John, at least two.” The boys nodded and each held out a little hand, Greg handed them both a sandwich and didn’t bother asking Mycroft. He knew that he would have something once the boys were safety tucked up in bed, just as Greg was planning to.

The boys ate their lunch quietly, both their eyelids heavy, and Greg gently rubbed Mycroft’s leg, he hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear Mycroft say those things. Once the boys had grumbled something about being full, Greg disappeared with the plate and came back empty handed holding out his arms to John.

“Come on then little one, time for a nap.” John just about managed to crawl away from Mycroft but was too tired to do much else, so Greg picked him up and started to climb the stairs. Behind him Mycroft managed to stand up, Sherlock in his arms and follow Greg to the boys bedroom.

Greg was already tucking John under his covers and handing him Bear, the bear, when Mycroft laid Sherlock down on his bed to get him changed. 

John put out a hand and clung onto Greg’s t-shirt, pulling him closer. “Sorry I got tha rules rong gain, Da.”

Greg crouched down next to John and stroked his hair, “You didn’t get anything wrong, John, don’t you worry. You’re my smart boy. Now close your eyes, poppet.” John did as he was told and Greg carried on stroking his hair.

Mycroft had changed Sherlock into his pyjamas, and turned down the duvet to let him climb in. Once he was in bed, Mycroft tucked him in tightly and reached up to the shelf over his head, pulling down Admiral Nelson, Sherlock’s stuffed bear and placing him under Sherlock’s chin.

“Now then boys,” Mycroft spoke in a soft, soothing voice, “Have some lovely dreams, call if you need us.” With that, Greg took Mycroft’s hand and they walked out of the boys room, leaving the door open as they went downstairs to eat some lunch.


	9. Chapter Nine

Mycroft and Greg were lying on the sofa, watching some sort of home improvement programme, or at least Greg was, Mycroft had fallen asleep as soon as he rested his head on Greg’s shoulder. They had both been too tired to bother with making their own meal so Greg was tucking one handed into the left over sandwiches from the boy’s lunch, his other hand stroking Mycroft’s neck. It was in moments like this that he really felt like a father. The two boys were happily asleep upstairs and he was lying with his tired husband, waiting for them to wake up again. 

In his head he was planning how they would spend the rest of the day. There were some pizza bases in the freezer, so he could let the boys to make their own pizza’s for dinner and after that a game or two of ludo seemed like a nice idea. Any board games that involved trivia or skill were out of the question when the boys were this young. If Greg had it his way, they would be out of the question even when they were older given the fights they caused. He would make sure that Mycroft told them a story before they went to sleep as he had promised Sherlock hat he would the night before, keeping promises was particularly important to little Sherlock, well big Sherlock too. 

If Greg had any say in the matter he would let Mycroft sleep until the morning, but he knew if he let him do that he’d be in serious trouble, so he was thinking it was coming around to the time to wake him up. There was suddenly a strange noise coming from above his head, in the boys room. There was the faint sound of giggling which didn’t worry him, but there was also an odd metal scraping sound that couldn’t be anything good. He listened closely, bed springs. Greg sighed and lightly shook Mycroft,

“Myc, dear, don’t worry but I’m about to holler up to our boys, I didn’t want to make you jump.”

“Hmm.”

“Boys! Do not jump on your beds!” Greg called in his DI voice, hearing this Mycroft’s eyes snapped open and he sat up straight. “It’s alright, they’re just being silly.” the funny noise from upstairs stopped abruptly, and only the sound of the boys giggling could be heard from their room.

“Well, maybe if they’re listening now, the rest of the day wont be quite so exhausting.” Mycroft sighed and leant back against Greg’s chest.

“I’m telling you Myc, it’s my DI voice, it works wonders.” As soon as the words had left his mouth, the sound from upstairs started again.

“Is that so, Gregory?” Mycroft couldn’t help but give Greg an amused look. Greg pushed Mycroft off his chest and sat up, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I’m going to spank them into next Tuesday.” Greg pushed himself up off the sofa but Mycroft quickly got a hold of his arm.

“Call up one more time, give them their warning.”

Greg sighed, “Boys! This is your warning, do not jump on your beds!” again the noise of the boys jumping stopped, but their giggling continued. Greg felt relief wash over him and he fell back down onto the sofa, picking up another sandwich on his way. He was fairly sure the boys would listen, they’d been punished enough in the last 24 hours, they wouldn’t be silly enough to push for more. 

“You need to eat something Myc, those sandwiches aren’t half bad you know, try one.” Greg held the sandwich up to Mycroft who took a bite out of it.

“Mm, not bad at all.”

….

In their bedroom Sherlock and John were lying together on Sherlock’s bed. Often when they would tire themselves out from playing they would curl up together like a pair of bear cubs. This is how they were lying, with their heads pressed together. Sherlock was holding one of John’s hands in his and counting his fingers over and over again. John nudged him with his head. 

“Lock?”

“Yeh?”

“Why isn’t we lowed to jumps on tha beds?”

“Dunno, John-John, stupid rule.”

“All rules a stupid.”

“Mm.”

“Hows ey no we jumpin?”

“I think they hears us.”

“Oh.”

“Yeh.”

“Wha if we did it really really quiet.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock thought about this for a moment. This did seem to solve the problem. Jumping on the bed was one of the most fun games of all of the games in all of the world. They weren’t allowed to do it. But their dads were downstairs so the couldn’t see Sherlock or John-John, they would only know they were doing it if they heard them. So if they did it very quietly, their dads wouldn’t hear them and they could jump on their beds all they wanted. “Dassa great idea John-John!”

John turned and beamed at Sherlock. Sherlock thought it was a great idea! His idea, John-John’s idea! Brilliant! 

The boys broke apart from their hug and John climbed up onto his bed while Sherlock stood up on his. They grinned at each other, this was brilliant. Sherlock covered his mouth with his hand to keep from giggling too loudly and John copied him. Sherlock started jumping first, trying not to jump too high and keeping his landings smooth. John copied Sherlock the whole time. It was brilliant, it was just like flying. Then with a bang, their bedroom door swung open. 

Da was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked even bigger than normal. John and Sherlock stopped jumping immediately but their beds were still shaking a little bit. They must not have been as quiet as they had thought. 

“Just what do you two think you are doing?” Greg kept from shouting, but used his most even, authoritative tone, the one that typically kept the entire station in line.

“Jumpin.” Greg’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, Sherlock’s lips hadn’t moved so he could easily guess who had said it, he looked over to John who’s chest was puffed up, looking mighty pleased with himself. Back chat from Sherlock was a pretty common occurrence but Greg hardly ever heard it from John.

“What did you just say to me, John Hamish?”

“I sed jumpin, you said wha were we doin, I sed we was jumpin, cos we was.”

Greg couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. Clearly the nap had given both boys a boost of energy, and John seemed determined to impress his big brother with his own naughtiness. That was never a good thing in Greg’s eyes.

“Well John, I doubt you are going to be quite so cocky when I’m finished with you.” Greg saw a flicker of fear in John’s eyes, but he didn’t waver. “Both of you, on the floor, now.” Both boys reluctantly climbed down from their beds. “I know you boys heard me when I told you not to jump on your beds. You could have been hurt. Really hurt. I gave you your warning, but you didn’t listen. Why didn’t you listen?” Neither boy responded. “Well, John, since you’re so sure of yourself this afternoon, you can answer the question. Why didn’t you listen to me?”

John looked squarely at Greg, “Cos it wa fun”. Greg took a deep breath and began rolling up the sleeves on his t-shirt. 

“Well I hope it was worth it, because the rest of the day is most certainly not going to be much fun for either of you.” Greg walked towards John, he took him by the arm and walked him over to the nearest empty corner, standing him in it. With a couple of tugs he pulled down his pyjama bottoms and pull-up and he landed three sharp slaps to John’s now bare backside. John let out a couple of yelps and hopped up on his toes, Greg put his hands on his shoulders, grounding him. “You stay right there little boy.” Greg landed one more swat for good measure and moved away over to Sherlock’s bed.

“Now then,” Greg sat down on Sherlock’s bed and pulled him close by his arm. “You know what you did was naughty, don’t you Sherlock?”

“Yes Da.”

“Mm.” Greg pulled down Sherlock’s pyjamas and pants and Sherlock whined as he did. “So you know why you’re getting a spanking.”

“But I aready gots one tday.” Sherlock shuffled his feet.

“I know, but you decided to be naughty again. I’m not happy about this either, Sherlock, I was downstairs planning a fun afternoon for us while you two were up here being such naughty boys. Now we can’t do those fun things because you didn’t listen to me. Now the two of you are going to spend the rest of the day on punishment.” Greg heard John whine from the corner.

“Ba thas not fare!” Sherlock balled up his fists and stamped his foot. Greg raised an eyebrow at him. “Think very carefully about your behaviour from now on, Sherlock. I’ve already told Pa that if you are old enough for a later bedtime that you are old enough for a paddling.” (Paddling was a strong word, Greg and Mycroft had bought a ping-pong bat at a jumble sale that they had decided could be used on Sherlock as the older boy if they felt it was really needed, it certainly couldn’t bruise him like a real paddle could, but it would give him a resoundingly sore bottom). Sherlock’s eyes went wide at the word. “Now, stop misbehaving and lie over my lap.” 

Greg could tell that Sherlock was very close to arguing but the threat of the paddle was enough to stop him. Mycroft had expected that the threat of a slightly worse spanking would be enough to curb any especially bad behaviour, at least for a little while. Greg positioned Sherlock over his knee and went to work turning his already pink bottom red. Out of the corner of his eye Greg could see John flinch ever so slightly at the more noisy smacks. Once he felt Sherlock had been duly punished he lifted him to his feet. It hadn’t taken much to turn Sherlock into a sorry little thing, Greg was pretty sure that the threat of a paddling had done more than the actual spanking. He stood and held Sherlock in a tight hug, he looked down at him. “Are you going to behave now?”

“Yes sir!” Sherlock nodded, Greg smiled and kissed him on the nose. 

“Glad to hear it.”

He lead Sherlock over to the other empty corner in the room, Sherlock was walking a little awkwardly as his pyjamas and pants were still around his ankles. Once he was in position, Greg gave him a firm tap on his bum. “Stay there, Sherlock.” Sherlock nodded without looking away from the corner and Greg walked over to John.

“Right then, little boy, your turn.” Greg turned John around by his shoulders, he already looked repentant and had shed a few tears during Sherlock’s spanking. Greg led him out of the corner and walked over to John’s bed this time. He sat down and stood John in front of him.

“Now I don’t know what got into you there John, but that behaviour is not acceptable. You were very naughty, and you talked back to me, you don’t do that John! Do you understand that you were naughty?” as he spoke he pulled down John’s pyjamas and pull-up.

“Yes Da.” John was working very hard to avoid eye contact with Greg.

“I know that there are some things that are upsetting you, John, but that does not mean that you will get away with being naughty. I made it very clear to both of you not to jump on the bed, I gave you both your warning, and you still misbehaved. Now, over my knee.” Greg hoisted John up over his knee with ease and began spanking in earnest. He was really disappointed in John’s behaviour. Much as with Sherlock, it didn’t take much actual spanking to appropriately punish John this time (he was most probably still sore from his fairly wet spanking the night before) and Greg was soon soothing him in a hug. Greg called Sherlock over and helped them both right their clothing before sending them down to apologise to their Pa for their misbehaviour, sending them on their way with a slap to the rear. Greg had a feeling he may need to be quite liberal with the swats over the next few hours to keep the boys from veering of into any more silliness.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, thanks for being so awesome!!
> 
> I just read a comment that was talking about a younger Sherlock, well as it happens this chapter and the next one are going to be a little bit along those lines. Maybe not exactly what that person was looking for but it's what I had planned following on from the last chapter. You lot are all smarter than me so you probably saw this little episode coming a mile off. You'll see what I mean, hopefully.
> 
> Anywho, hope you like this chapter. I quite like this one.

Mycroft was busy fussing in the kitchen, he could hear the boys getting their comeuppance for misbehaving upstairs and was trying to decide what to do with them for the rest of the day. Greg had mentioned something about pizza making just before the boys decided to push their luck, this was now out of the question. They had been in too much trouble since they came home, and pizza making was always messy, as far as Mycroft was concerned it most definitely fell under the ‘treat’ category and unfortunately the boys had put a hold on treats for the day with all their messing about.

He knew that a conversation about their naughtiness would be a good idea, but approaching a serious conversation when the boys were little was never straightforward. They would have to be lulled into it. Colouring seemed like a good idea, it might calm them down a bit and while their minds were occupied being creative, there might be an opportunity so sneak in a bit of serious talk. He pulled the piles of colouring books and the boxes of pens and pencils off their shelf and put them on the table before making a couple of sippy cups of juice. The boys would be thirsty if they had been crying, and a Greg spanking usually reduced the recipient to tears, Mycroft could attest to this himself though he’d never admit it to Sherlock or John. 

Soon enough there was the sound of feet racing down the stairs,

“Don’t run, boys!” Mycroft called up, just in time for them to take the last two steps sensibly. Before he could turn to chastise them he was engulfed in a joint hug from both boys. He looked down at their sad little faces,

“Sorry we was bad, Pa.” John said in a voice loud enough that Greg could hear it from upstairs, Sherlock didn’t manage to vocalise any apology but nodded furiously along with John’s words. Mycroft lay a soft hand on a cheek of each boy,

“You weren't bad, boys, you were naughty.”

“Mm-hm, sorry we was norty, Pa.” John corrected himself, again joined by a nodding Sherlock.

“Have you both been punished?”

“A-huh. Spanks.” John frowned at this and Sherlock hid his face in Mycroft’s shirt.

“Well, so I should think after all of that.” 

“Buh Da sed we is on puni-munt, for tha res of tha day.” John said with wide, teary eyes. Sherlock was now completely latched onto Mycroft and very close to climbing up off the floor onto his hip. Mycroft adjusted his weight and decided to make the final step for him, hoisting him up with a loud grunt that made John giggle. Mycroft raised an eyebrow in his direction, and John’s mouth snapped shut.

“Yes, so the treats we had planned for you boys will have to wait until tomorrow I’m afraid.”

“Owwww.” 

“No, John, no complaints, naughty boys don’t get special treats.”

“I know.” he grumbled.

“Good, now lets sit down and do a bit of colouring, how does that sound?”

“Ca-la-rin not a treat, Pa?” John asked his head tilted to the side.

“No, I don’t think it really counts as a treat. But I want you to sit and colour nicely, John.”

“A-huh, I do tha!” John nodded emphatically and sat down on his favourite chair with a thud, pulling a colouring book towards him. 

“Now, how about you Lock?” Mycroft turned his head to look at Sherlock but his face was buried in Mycroft’s neck, he didn’t get a response except from a non-committal groan. “Hmm?” Mycroft returned his little noise and bounced him a couple of times before sharing a look with Greg as he walked through the door. Greg paused and held his flat palm out from his leg, only a couple of feet from the floor,

“Little?” Mycroft mouthed at him,

“I think so.” Greg mouthed back. Mycroft nodded in understanding and turned his attention back to Sherlock. “How about colouring with Pa? You can help me, you know I’m not very good at colouring.”

Sherlock moaned a little bit but did nothing else, his face still buried in Mycroft’s neck. Mycroft had a pretty good idea what had made Sherlock drop a little younger but he didn’t think now was the time to discuss it. He sat down in his usual chair and moved Sherlock onto his lap, once they were settled Sherlock moved his face from Mycroft’s neck and rested his head on his chest instead. Mycroft looked down, smiling,

“There’s my Lock, you were hiding weren’t you? Hm?” Sherlock nodded, his face never leaving Mycroft’s chest. “Mm, I thought so, what should we colour?”

Greg had moved to the kettle and wordlessly offered Mycroft a cup, he accepted and turned to the colouring books. “What are you colouring, John?”

“Snakes!!! Ssssssss.” John held aloft a reptile colouring book and stuck his tongue out at Mycroft, doing his best impression of a snake.

“Oh very good, John, but remember, we’re staying calm aren’t we?”

“A-huh!” John nodded and turned back to his book, Greg ruffled his hair as he sat down placing the mugs of tea on the table and pulling his chair over to be closer to John.

“Well look here, Lock, there’s a book with bears in it, bears just like yours-”

“An mines!” John added before Mycroft could finish, just a little louder than necessary. Greg gently shushed him and rubbed calming circles on his back as Mycroft returned his attention to Sherlock.

“Bears, like Admiral Nelson, I think we should colour one of them in. Which one shall we colour Locky?” 

John stirred a little at the use of the nickname, it was usually only used when Sherlock was feeling even smaller than John. Greg swept the stray hairs from John’s forehead and started asking him questions about the snakes he was colouring in.

Sherlock didn’t answer but lifted his thumb to his mouth, Mycroft tutted and gently pulled his hand away, “No thumbs, Locky, but would you like a pa-”

Before Mycroft could finish, Greg had pulled a light blue pacifier from his t-shirt pocket and held it out to Mycroft, apparently he had come downstairs prepared.

“Ah, would you look at that, isn’t your Da a mindreader?” Sherlock nodded against Mycroft’s chest as he placed the pacifier between his lips. Mycroft stopped for a moment and rested his chin on top of Sherlock’s head, he sighed.

“You don’t want to colour, do you Lock?” Sherlock grunted and shook his head. “How about you and me sit in the armchair and read a story?” Sherlock nodded with a little more purpose this time. “That’s what we will do then, come along little one.” Mycroft stood, taking Sherlock with him, as he turned to leave the room he could see John suddenly become restless but decided Greg would know what to do.

Mycroft carried Sherlock over to the bookcase and stood in front of it. He would never understand it, but whenever Sherlock or John slipped younger than their most common headspace, he found them physically lighter to carry. He knew it made no scientific sense, but he could swear it was true. He scanned along the shelf of children’s stories, holding Sherlock with one arm (a rare feat for Mycroft) and pointing to the books with his spare hand. 

“Ah, I like this one.” Sherlock nodded and Mycroft took the Peter Rabbit book off the shelf, taking it with them to his large armchair that sat in the corner of the room. He got himself comfortable and then settled Sherlock, he whined and huffed a bit at being sat on his bottom but once his face was pressed back against Mycroft he stopped worrying. Mycroft was about to start reading when he closed the book and sat it on the arm of the chair, turning all his attention to Sherlock.

“Lock, did you get a bit scared when Da mentioned giving you a paddling?” Mycroft waited for a response, it took a little while but Sherlock eventually gave a small nod. “Is it because we thought you were grown up enough? Or was it because it might hurt more?” There was no response from Sherlock and Mycroft sighed, frustrated with himself, he had given Sherlock too many options making answering difficult. Whether Sherlock had intended to slip younger or not, he had slipped younger. “Well, I think it’s something Locky should forget all about for now, it’s something Da and I will talk to big Sherlock about when we see him.”

“No panks?” Sherlock asked in a voice so quiet Mycroft almost didn’t hear him.

“Hmm? No spanks? No, no, Locky, naughty boys still get a smacked bottom, but no paddle. But you don’t need to worry about spanks, you’re not a naughty boy are you Lock?”

“Na!” Sherlock shook his head, but Mycroft saw the corners of his mouth curl upwards. He took the opportunity to tickle him under his chin.

“Oh, I’m not so sure, I think you might be!” Mycroft took Sherlock’s head lightly in his hands and started planting kisses on every spot of skin. Sherlock giggled and squirmed on his lap as he did.

“Goo boy.” Sherlock just about managed to say around the pacifier in his mouth. Mycroft wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in close, using his leg to gently rock him a little.

“Yes, my good boy, hm? That’s what you are, you are my good Sherlock.” Sherlock hummed in agreement and closed his eyes. Mycroft decided to forget about the book and started a rambling story about the rabbit named Colin that Greg had invented the night before. He felt Sherlock soften against him and he even let his own eyes droop a little as he spoke.

….

“It’s alright John, I’m here, you and me will do a bit of colouring together.” Greg was turned sideways in his seat rubbing John’s back and lightly turning his head away from the door Mycroft and Sherlock had just walked through, and back to face him. 

“Buh is Locky kay?” John looked decidedly tearful, Greg stroked his hair and pulled the chair he was sitting on closer.

“I think Da scared him a bit, John-John, but he’ll be okay.”

“Scare?”

“Mmhm.”

“Da, scare?”

“I’m afraid so.” Two almost cartoonishly big tears ran down John’s cheek. “Oh, no, no, John, don’t cry sweetheart.” Greg was suddenly feeling a terrible ache in his chest, perhaps he had been too heavy handed with the boys. He hadn’t meant to hurt their feelings, their backsides certainly, but not their feelings. He quickly wiped the tears from John’s face and pulled him from his own chair onto his lap. “Now I’ve upset my John-John too. Da’s not having a very good day is he?” Greg wrapped his arms around John. He expected him to crumble into a tearful mess on his lap but he didn’t he turned his body to face Greg and hugged him back, kissing his Da on the cheek.

“Da, goo Da.” He said before leaning back and looking at Greg, nodding. 

“Is that so?”

“A-huh, John-John say so.”

“Well,” Greg heaved a very real sigh, “If John-John says so it must be true, eh?”

“Yep!” John popped the ‘P’ and smiled at his Da. “I ca-lad you a bu snake!” John grabbed the picture he had been colouring in from the table, crumpling it a bit in the process but he didn’t seem to mind, and held it an inch or so in front of Greg’s face. Greg blinked a few times and took the picture from John, holding it at arms length to get a proper look.

“Well, would you look at that, isn’t that the most beautiful blue snake you’ve ever seen?”

“A-huh ahuh! John nodded, grinning at Greg.

“Well,” Greg turned in his seat to face the table and pulled John back so he was leaning against his chest. He pulled the bear book over to them, the one Mycroft had been looking at and turned John’s attention towards it. “Since Lock isn’t feeling too happy right now, how about you and me colour him a picture of a bear?”

“Li Nelsom?” John asked.

“Exactly like Nelson. You do all the important bits because you’re cleverer that me, and I’ll do the easy bits around the outside.”

“Kay kay, Da.” John nodded and got the work, Greg adding a little bit of colour to the border every now and then. 

Greg was amazed at how long he’d been able to keep the increasingly fidgety John interested in colouring the picture. John’s humming was growing louder and louder when finally he pushed all of the crayons within his reach off the table with a loud “Zoooom.” John was about to accidently crush the new picture of Nelson the Bear in his jittery hands when Greg swooped it to safety out of his reach on the counter top.

“Well, we made a little bit of a mess at the end but you did really well John!”

“Dih well?” John turned on Greg’s lap so he could look at him.

“Yes you did. You coloured your brother a lovely picture and you sat still for almost half an hour bud!” Greg ruffled John’s hair and grinned at him. It was becoming increasingly hard to keep John on his lap as he shifted and pulled for no particualr reason. Greg had a look out into the garden, it was getting dark but it wasn’t raining. “I think we should go and sit on the quiet bench for a minute.”

“Nooooooo.” John grumbled, now trying in earnest to get off of his Da’s lap, but Greg wasn’t letting him go.

“Just for a minute. I’ll sit with you, we can swing our legs just how you like.”

“Bah I not norty!” John was pushing his palm hard against Greg’s chest trying to get some leverage to wriggle away.

“No of course not John, you’re not going to your corner. You and me are going to sit on the quiet bench in the garden, and we can have a little chat if you’d like.”

“Cha?”

“If you’d like.”

“Wa abbow?

“Whatever you’d like.”

“Evan fisheses” Greg couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Even fishes. But do you remember the rules of the quiet bench?”

John really did try to think of what they were but unsurprisingly he couldn’t remember.

“No.” John shook his head sadly.

“Well that’s alright because Da remembers them. We have to use our quiet voices and we have to sit on the bench until we feel calm.”

“Oh yeh!” John nodded, he remembered now.

“Right then, you hold my hand John, and we’ll put your coat on you because it might be a bit chilly and then we’ll go and sit on the quiet bench.” John nodded along with each little thing on his Da’s list. John took a hold of one of Greg’s hands and hopped off his lap, letting Greg stand up. Greg walked him over to the back door where he briefly let his hand go so he could put his coat on him, before taking his hand and walking out into the garden.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Mycroft and Sherlock were sitting cuddled up together in Mycroft’s arm chair. It was a feeling that Sherlock didn’t think he’d ever get over, lying comfortably, held in his brother’s arms. Sherlock turned a little to look up at Mycroft.

“Pa?” he whispered, when there wasn’t a response he took the pacifier out of his mouth just for as long as it took to say, “Pa?” again before shoving it back in his mouth as if it would disappear if it were away from his lips for a second longer. 

“Mm?” Sherlock smiled at the response and took the pacifier back out of his mouth again,

“Seep, Pa?” he put the thing back in his mouth again for safe keeping. Mycroft opened one eye to look at Sherlock.

“Not quite my boy, not quite. I can’t sleep on the job you know.” Mycroft blinked both of his eyes a couple of times before opening them and sitting up a little straighter, adjusting Sherlock in his lap. 

“Job, Pa?” Sherlock repeated the action with his pacifier yet again.

“Mm, it’s a full time job you know, being a Pa.”

“Tis?” This time Mycroft noticed Sherlock’s actions with his pacifier,

“Shall I take that from you for a moment while we talk?” Sherlock took it out of his mouth but balled it up in his fist holding it close to his chest.

“No!” Mycroft was ready to tell him off for this, he even raised an eyebrow, but decided given the slightly younger headspace Sherlock seemed to be in, he would give him an extra chance or two to behave first. 

“Sweetheart, I’m not going to take it away, just hold on to it for you so we can talk and you wont have to worry about it getting lost. That’s all love, it wont even leave your sight.” Sherlock thought about this, it did sound like quite a good idea.

“Pomise?”

“I absolutely promise, Lock.” Mycroft held out an open hand and Sherlock tentatively and ever so gently handed it to him. “There’s a good boy.”

“Goo boy.” Sherlock nodded, agreeing with Mycroft that he was, indeed, a good boy. 

“Now, where were we?” Sherlock scrunched up his eyes looking up to the ceiling as he tried to remember the conversation they were having before the whole pacifier safety issue arose. He grinned as he remembered and looked back at Mycroft.

“Job, Pa.”

“Job? My job? Were we- Oh yes! That’s right clever boy, we were talking about my job as your Pa.” Sherlock nodded happily. “Well, I can’t go falling asleep when I’ve got two such precious boys to look after, now can I?” Sherlock giggled loudly and shook his head no. Mycroft couldn’t help but smile back at the boy, he seemed much more comfortable in himself now than he had done a little while ago, still quite young, he noticed, but happier. “I love seeing my boys smile, it’s my favourite thing in the whole world, did you know that?”

Sherlock shook his head no, he didn’t know that.

“Well it is, it’s my favourite thing. And it’s your Da’s favourite thing too!” Sherlock frowned ever so slightly and bit his lip. “What’s wrong, Lock?” Sherlock didn’t answer at first, he looked down and started to fidget with one of the button’s on Mycroft’s shirt. “Lock?”

“Da ma a me.” Mycroft paused, trying to put everything into place in his head, mad at him? Why would he think that? (He may have dozed off for a moment or two though he wouldn’t tell Sherlock, middle age was catching up with him and it took a minute to piece together the last couple of hours). Ah.

“No, sweetheart, Da’s not mad at you!”

“No?”

“No, no. He was a bit cross with you and your brother for being so naughty earlier. So was I, Lock. You were misbehaving and you knew it, young man.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow, Sherlock blushed. “Mm.” Mycroft nodded, noting Sherlock’s non-verbal acceptance of the fact. “But Da’s not ‘mad’ at you Sherlock, we’re never mad at you or your brother, never.”

“Ne-a?”

“Never. Are you worried because Da said he might give you a paddling?” Sherlock’s eyes were wide and watery, he nodded. “Well, that is something that Da and I have talked about-” Sherlock was growing more and more upset at the words and Mycroft wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He thought Sherlock needed it to be explained but he wasn’t convinced that Sherlock was currently old enough to understand. It was a conundrum, but he’d try to continue. “Because sometimes, sometimes, Sherlock, you feel a bit older don’t you? Not grown up, and not your usual little age, am I right?”

Sherlock thought about this, Mycroft wasn’t wrong. Sometimes, usually when he was trying to be ‘grown up’, he felt more like a teenager, a young teenager at that. It was a strange transition period that for a long time he’d tried to hide from Mycroft and Greg, even John, but the more time he spent being ‘himself’ around them, the more obvious it became. It was a less frequent stage for Sherlock than his grown self or young self, but it was there, just as his very young self was. So he nodded.

“Well, Da and I spoke about that and about how we should try more to be your Pa and your Da when you’re feeling that age, you might need Da and Pa then more than Greg or Mycroft.” Sherlock nodded tentatively again. “And if you’re naughty when you’re feeling that age, it might be suitable for us to use something a little bit tougher to punish you with. It’s not a great big wooden paddle that you see in the movies, it’s a tiny little ping-pong bat, just enough to sting your backside when you’re being very naughty.” Mycroft paused to give himself a moment to try and judge how much Sherlock was taking in, he seemed to be coping okay. Before he could continue, Sherlock spoke up,

“Buh spanks sting, Pa!” Mycroft chuckled. 

“Yes they certainly do, if I were to put you over my knee now for being a cheeky little goblin-” Sherlock giggled, “I’m sure it would sting plenty. But when you’re a bit older, I might need something a bit stronger. Because, when you’re older than you are now, you’re a bit stronger than you are now. Isn’t that right?” Sherlock thought about this, he was very very strong right now, but it was probably true he was even strongererer when he was older. So he nodded. “It’s just the same as how when you’re your biggest Sherlock, and he is very very naughty, Mycroft has to bring out his nasty cane.”

“Oww.” Sherlock nodded, the cane was nasty.

“Ow indeed, young man. It’s just another stage of Sherlock that we need to get to know, love, that’s all. Just how when you’re your biggest, and you’re naughty, you get the cane, and when you’re your young self, you get my hand, this new in-between Sherlock will sometimes get the paddle. Does that make sense love? I know it’s a lot to take on.”

“Lots.” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, lots. Here’s all you need to know Sherlock. Me and your Da have noticed this brilliant other level of Sherlock that we haven’t been paying enough attention to. We need to start paying him attention whenever he’s around. That means that we give him lots of hugs and kisses and play lots of games that he wants to play and make his favourite dinner. It also means, because you are you Sherlock, that he will sometimes get in trouble, and when he does, you need to trust me and Da to do the right thing. Do you trust us, Lock?”

Sherlock nodded more furiously than at any other point in the day. Mycroft sighed and kissed him on his nose. “Good. So don’t you worry. And don’t ever think that me or your Da are mad at you, because we never ever are.”

“Neva eva?” Sherlock tilted his head.

“Never. Ever.” Mycroft nodded definitively. “I’ll talk to bigger Sherlock about all of this when I see him, so you can put it out of your head for now little one.”

“No pad-a?”

“Not for you, little one, no.”

“Kay.” Sherlock nodded and smiled. “Cos I neva norty.” Mycroft let out a large, unexpected, bark of laughter.

“You cheeky monkey!” in one swift motion Mycroft put the pacifier back into Sherlock’s mouth.

….

There was something about the quiet bench that Greg really loved. Every now and then Sherlock needed to have a seat on the quiet bench, but mostly it was John. While there were obvious ‘father, son’ traits with Mycroft and Sherlock, Greg had come to see that there were a lot of these with him and John. Little John reminded Greg a great deal of a once little Greg. While they were both sat on the bench together, he felt this very strongly. 

“John, poppet, we have to sit our bums on the bench, remember.” Greg had an arm wrapped around John’s legs as he was currently sanding on the bench. “Down you hop.” Greg took one of John’s hands as he jumped down. John grinned at Greg and sat down next to him, sitting as close as possible to his Da. Greg swiftly tucked an arm around him and squeezed him tightly. 

“Da?”

“Yes, John?”

“Why is we on tha bench?”

“You were getting a little bit over-excited, love, that’s what the bench is for, remember?”

“Oh yeh.” John nodded and started to swing his feet, it was something that used to distract and calm down Greg when he was little, he had taught it to John.

“That’s a good boy.” Greg squeezed him tightly again. “I have an idea.”

“I-de-yah?”

“Yes, smart boy, do you think you could help me make dinner tonight?”

“Elp?!”

“Yes. Is that something you’d like to do?”

“Yeh, yeh, yeh!” John hopped up onto his feet again, but Greg was expecting this and held his hand to stop him running off. “Settle, John, remember, bums on the bench.” John nodded and sat back next to his Da. 

“It would be very good if you could help me. But we have to be very calm when we’re cooking dinner.”

“Cam.” 

“That’s right. So I want to make a deal, John. You can help me make dinner, because I need the help of such a clever boy, but if you start to get a bit tingly or jumpy, you tell Da and we’ll come and sit down on the bench. For one minute, that’s all. Just one minute. Is that a deal, John?

“Dassa deel Da!”

“That’s my good boy. How are you feeling now?”

“Kay, Da.” John had now stopped swinging his legs and Greg gently held his palm to John’s chest. His heart didn’t feel like it was about to break out of his chest anymore, so Greg nodded. He held out his hand and John took it.

“Let’s go then, junior.” 

The two of them walked back into the house, swinging their held hands as they went.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Sherlock laid his head back against Mycroft’s chest, the pacifier bobbing in his mouth, his chest rising and falling slowly, a sign of how relaxed he was with his Pa. Mycroft managed to glance at his watch, he’d noticed it was getting dark outside and was trying to work out what to do with what remained of the day. An early night was called for once again, not only because both boys were clearly tired from the previous days, but also because they were both still being punished. 

“Well, I’m not sure what your Da and brother are doing little one, but what should we do?” Mycroft rested his cheek against Sherlock’s hair.

“Hmmm.” Sherlock tapped his palm against the little thing in his mouth as he thought.

“Pay?” Sherlock slurred, Mycroft furrowed his brow and gently removed the pacifier from his mouth.

“What was that little one?”

“Pay-n-t?” Sherlock put extra emphasis on the last few letters to try and make it clearer for Mycroft.

“Paint?” Sherlock grinned and nodded.

“Oh no, no, Lock, I don’t think so. You’re still being punished for the rest of the day. Painting is most definitely a special treat.”

“Hmf.” Sherlock frowned and crossed his army tightly across his chest.

“Careful, young man.” Sherlock titled his head back a little to look up at Mycroft, he didn’t look pleased.

“Buh-” Mycroft cut off Sherlock’s complaint with a firm tap on his bum and a well timed eyebrow raise. Sherlock decided painting was not worth yet another spanking. He was in the process of calming down and loosening his limbs when Greg and John appeared in the doorway. Greg was holding each of John’s hands with his own and John was swinging back and forth on his Da’s arms.

“There you two are, we were wondering what you were up to.”

“Well,” Greg stopped for a moment, it was hard to concentrate with John swinging around, “come here monkey.” Greg hoisted John up onto his hip and turned his attention back to Mycroft and Sherlock. “We’ve done some colouring, and we sat on the quiet bench for a little while, isn’t that right John?” Greg bounced John and he giggled, nodding,

“A-huh!”

“Well that sounds very nice, what shall we do now?”

“Well, since both of the boys are still being punished-” the boys made an ‘aww’ sound in perfect unison and Greg and Mycroft shared a smirk. “That means no treats, but I’ve already asked John if he could be helpful and help me prepare some dinner.” John beamed with pride from his position on Greg’s hip and nodded happily in agreement. For a fleeting moment Mycroft shot Greg a concerned look. The boys weren’t capable of being helpful with something like cooking, they could make an olympic level mess, but they couldn’t really help. But his mind was quickly calmed when Greg looked back at him, he had a plan, and Greg’s plans were usually foolproof. 

“Oh, oh!” Sherlock suddenly pointed one arm up in the air, “Ca I elp too, Da?”. Greg and Mycroft both chuckled at this, there was something particularly adorable about a Sherlock that was eager to help.

“Well I think that sounds like a very good idea, what do you think Pa, shall we put these naughty little boys to work in the kitchen?”

“Oh, that sounds like an excellent idea.” Mycroft gently nudged Sherlock off his lap, quietly pocketing the pacifier incase he needed it again any time soon. Sherlock hopped over to Greg and John and flung both of his arms up in the air.

“Up, up, Da, up?” Greg glanced over at Mycroft, as much as he would love to hold both boys at the same time, it wasn’t a good idea. He could do it in an emergency and had done quite a few times before, but he didn’t unnecessarily want to risk a bad back so early into the boys visit. Luckily for Greg, Mycroft was at this point, his mind reading husband.

“Well, I want to hold my John first. I haven’t hugged him in hours and hours and hours!” Mycroft stepped forward holding his arms out to John, and Greg seamlessly shifted him from his own hip onto Mycroft’s. Mycroft made a point of hugging John tightly and kissing him on the nose as he carried him through into the kitchen, telling him how good it was that he had sat on the quiet bench. Greg looked at Sherlock who was standing patiently with his arms held in the air, his face faltering ever so slightly at the time it was taking to get Greg’s attention. Greg’s heart melted at the look on his face and instantly swooped him up into his arms.

“What do you say, Lock, let’s go and make some dinner.”

“Din-nah.” Sherlock nodded.

“That’s right, because you’re such a helpful boy aren’t you?”

“Yep!” Sherlock popped the ‘P’ and giggled as he rested his head on Greg’s shoulder, he mumbled something about ‘no ma da’. Greg didn’t understand but knew Mycroft would catch him up later, instead he settled for tickling Sherlock’s chest as they walked into the kitchen.

“I love my boys, I do, I love them so much!” He held Sherlock’s forehead to his lips and kissed him over and over again.

As Greg and Sherlock entered the kitchen, Greg lowered Sherlock down into his favourite chair just as Mycroft had done with John. Greg stood behind the chair, gently massaging Sherlock’s shoulders to calm him down.

“So, what’s for dinner, dear?” Mycroft asked, fairly sure what the answer would be and not completely thrilled by it.

“Well, I thought chicken fingers-” Greg was interrupted by a joint ‘Wooo’ from the boys, “and salad” ‘ahhh’, “for tonight.”

“That sounds lovely.” Mycroft did a good job of acting excited but gave Greg a look. Ever since they had been parents to Sherlock and John, Greg had found any excuse to eat food that Mycroft wouldn’t normally go within a mile of. It turned out that as in the case of cartoons, Greg had found a fondness for the child-friendly food that usually came in manageable shapes and sizes. It was the kind of food that could be cooked at almost any temperature and for any amount of time, as long as it wasn’t frozen anymore it was good to go. The thought of this had made Mycroft nauseous in the early days, wondering what kind of meat could really be properly cooked this way. But now, since the boys would agree to eat almost anything that came in ‘fingers’ or ‘dinosaurs’ without kicking up a fuss, he had come around to the idea. With the caveat that any food of the ‘finger’ or ‘dinosaur’ variety had to be eaten with salad, or at least something that was naturally green.

“Now, for the very important job I have for our boys.” Greg turned and made a show of rummaging in the fridge until he found two cucumbers, he put them on the table and then looked in the drawers returning with two plastic butter knives. “Can you please cut these into slices for me? Take your time, there’s no rush, do you think you can do that?” Greg looked between the boys, trying to gage the extent to which they could cope with such a ‘serious’ task. There was no way they could hurt themselves with the butter knives, in fact, cutting the cucumbers itself would be quite tricky and take a long time, occupying them long enough for him to cook the rest of the meal.

“A-huh ahuh!” John nodded enthusiastically. Sherlock didn’t seem quite so sure, he put a finger in his mouth as he thought reminding Mycroft to get the anti-bacterial wipes from the cupboard and place them on the table. He supposed he would be supervising the very important cucumber slicing.

“Ty, Da?” Sherlock asked, head titled and finger still firmly held between his lips.

“Yes, yes that’s right Lock, you try, it doesn’t matter if it’s too hard, but give it a go for me.” Greg nodded and smiled down at Sherlock, this was the response he was hoping for. For the boys to think they were being helpful, perhaps curbing their seemingly endless desire to be naughty all day.

“I do tha.” Sherlock nodded to himself and picked up one of the colourful plastic butter knives and setting to work, making tiny little dents in the cucumber as he tried to slice it.

Mycroft pulled out a chair and sat between the two boys as Greg started work at the oven. Mycroft leant over to each boy in turn and wiped their hands with the anti-bacterial wipes. “Lets try and keep our fingers out of our mouths, boys, while we’re cooking dinner.”

“Mmhm.” Sherlock agreed with a nod, one finger already back between his lips. Mycroft resigned himself to the fact there was no point in the wipes, he had come to terms with the boys ‘germs’ along time ago. It didn’t bother either dad anymore. Well, it had never bothered Greg.

Soon enough the four of them were eating dinner. Neither boy had successfully sliced any cucumber, they had tried for what they thought had been hours but had only been a minute or two. They both gave up handing their knives to Mycroft as a sign that he should do it, and the boys had started a far more important discussion about the spaceman in their cartoon. 

Once the food was put down on the table, Sherlock had migrated to Greg’s lap, most probably jealous of the special time he seemed to have spent with John. John was sat next to Mycroft, cackling with laughter at the faces Mycroft didn’t intend to pull as he ate the dreaded chicken fingers. Sherlock had decided he wasn’t feeding himself, instead holding his mouth open for bites of Greg’s dinner, which Greg happily obliged. Somehow John had covered most of his face in tomato sauce in the process of eating and every now and then had a small coughing fit when chewing and laughing at the same time went wrong. 

Once Mycroft was sure that John had eaten enough, his lunch not being big enough to allow for the excited energy he was burning, he gently rested a flat palm on John’s chest, catching his eye and indicating that they should take deep breaths together. 

Greg looked at the little Sherlock on his lap, “Have you eaten enough, monkey?” 

“Flup.” Sherlock nodded.

“Hm, full up? Me too.” Greg pushed the plate in front of him into the centre of the table, keeping a side eye on Mycroft and John. “Well, I think the clean up can wait until you’re safety tucked up in bed, eh Lock?”

“Be time?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head. “Ah-red-ee?”

“Not quite, monkey, first is bath time, then story time-” Greg broke off for a moment to stroke Sherlock’s hair and kiss him on the cheek. “Then bed time.”

“Oh, oh-kay.” Sherlock nodded, that didn’t sound too bad. 

“Well done, John.” Mycroft said softly, John seemed to have successfully calmed himself down with Mycroft’s help. “Would you like some juice?”

“Peas?” John nodded, his throat was a little bit sore from all the coughing. Mycroft handed him a somehow (Greg, the ever prepared!) full sippy cup of juice and John happily sipped away, resting his elbows on the table. Mycroft leant over and pushed his tousled hair off his face. 

“Such a good boy.” Mycroft turned to Greg and before he could continue, John slid quietly onto his lap. “Bath time?”

“Bath time.” Greg sighed, both boys seemed more calm and rested than at any other point in the day, hopefully the bath/story/bed ritual would go smoothly. “Ah, how could I forget!” Greg leant over and picked up the picture of a bear that John had coloured earlier in the day. He held it up for Mycroft to see before putting it down on the table in front of Sherlock. “Here, Lock, look what John-John coloured for you.” Sherlocks eyes went wide, it was a very pretty picture.

“Fa me?!” Sherlock asked Greg who gently moved his attention in John’s direction. John was suddenly sitting up much straighter on Mycroft’s lap, looking very proud of himself. “Fa me, John-John?”

“Ahuh! Cos yew was sa be-fore.” John nodded, Sherlock grinned at his brother.

“Is pitty.” Sherlock nodded, surveying the art work.

“It’s very, very pretty John. Well done, that was a lovely thing to do.” Mycroft kissed the top of John’s head. John didn’t think he’d ever been this proud of himself before, he could feel his chest starting to rise but before anything could escalate, Mycroft gently laid his hand over John’s heart. John felt safe, and calm, he had done a good thing and everything would be alright.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is very short and ridiculously fluffy even by my standards....

Sherlock and John were lying at either end of the bath, Greg and Mycroft were knelt down in between them.

“Now, we’re not going to have any naughtiness in the bath tonight, are we John?” Mycroft turned to John and gave him a look that showed John how tiny his chance of getting away with anything really was. He could see John think about it for a moment, was it worth it? John tapped his open palms on the top of the water, not splashing the water at all, and bit his lip before shaking his head no.

“Uh-uh, Pa, I be good.” Mycroft held his glare for a second longer before smiling and winking.

“Good boy.” Mycroft leant over and ruffled his hair, he and Greg had decided against washing the boys hair, today had been tiring enough without adding any new hurdles to jump. 

Mycroft had run the bath, making it just a degree warmer than normal to help the boys feel sleepy. He even lit one of the lavender incense sticks that Greg had brought home. At first Mycroft had laughed it of as ‘new wave’ nonsense, however he had to admit it did seem to settle the boys well before bedtime. 

Mycroft turned to look at Sherlock, whose eyes were drooping as Greg gently washed his arms. “Lock, dear, I think you should wear a pull-up tonight.”

Sherlock didn’t bother to sit up or open his eyes any wider, but mumbled “No, no, no.” 

“Mm, I think so, you’ve been feeling quite young this evening.” Sherlock began to slowly push him self up, when Mycroft cut in, “No arguments, Sherlock.” Sherlock let himself slide back down into the water, too tired to have another argument before bedtime. “Good boy.”

“It looks like we’ve got two well behaved boys tonight Myc.” Greg turned to smile at Mycroft as he gently rubbed the back of Sherlock’s head.

“Well, they are brilliant boys, aren’t they?” Mycroft smiled.

“The most brilliant boys.” Greg agreed.

“I think it’s time we got the two of you into some cosy pyjamas.” Mycroft looked between each boy, they were both leaning back against the slope of the bath, they were completely wiped out from the day they had both had. “Hm, I know.” Mycroft stood up, his joints clicking as he did. This made Greg laugh which in turn made both boys giggle. “There’s still enough time for me to spank three bottoms before bed.” Mycroft warned.

“Three?!” 

“Yes, Gregory, three.” Mycroft turned and gave his husband the same warning look he gave the boys. Mycroft set about lying two of their biggest towels down on the floor.

“Da norty.” Sherlock giggled, both boys eyes were open just wide enough to see Greg poke his tongue at Mycroft while his back was turned. Mycroft spun around on his heel and landed a hard smack on Greg’s arse. 

“Ow!”

“I saw that Gregory.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow at his husband as he tried to rub the sting away, he couldn’t have looked more like John and Sherlock’s dad in that moment if he’d tried.

“How-”

“I see everything dear, everything. Now, behave yourself before you end up over my knee.”

“Yes sir.” Greg grumbled as he stood and pulled Sherlock from the bath, reading Mycroft’s mind and laying him down on one of the two towels to get him ready for bed.

“Good lad.” Mycroft added with a nod as he lifted John out of the bath and laid him down next to his brother.

“Da goh spanks, Lock!” John giggled turning his head to the side to look at his brother.

“I no. He norty yike us!” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes he is!” Mycroft added as he crouched down to dress John, “Now I know where you both get it from.”

“A-huh!” Sherlock nodded as he laughed. 

“Like you’re never naughty.” Greg added, with a sideways glance to Mycroft. With all of the giggling he’d managed to get Sherlock into a pull-up without him even noticing.

“I most certainly am not.” Mycroft held one of John’s feet in his hands as he paused to think, sitting back on his haunches, “well, I suppose sometimes...” both of the boys dissolved into giggles. Mycroft and Greg both stood up each taking a boy into their arms and carrying them, now fully dressed in their pyjamas, into their bedroom.

Once each boy was tucked into their bed, their bear’s wrapped up in their arms, Mycroft took his usual seat in the low armchair next to Sherlock’s bed. Greg walked around to the other side of John’s bed and sat down on the floor next to it, resting his arms on the bed, and his head on his arms. He turned to look at a sleepy John and flashed him a smile and a wink, before sitting up just enough to rub John’s arm, “Such a good boy.” he murmured and John hummed in agreement, his eyes closing. 

“Now, who’s ready for a story?” Mycroft asked as he crossed one leg over the other.

“Me!” John called, his eyes still shut.

“Me too!” Called Sherlock, in what was little more than a tired whisper.

“Me three.” Greg grinned at his husband from his position at the side of John’s bed. Mycroft smiled and sighed.

“Well then, there were once three naughty boys...”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Mycroft stopped telling his long story about three naughty boys when he saw that all three of the aforementioned boys were now asleep. He leant over and turned off the light by Sherlock’s bed, wincing a little when it clicked quite loudly, no one seemed to stir so he stood up. His knees clicked again, this time making him chuckle to himself and he creeped around to the other side of John’s bed where Greg was now asleep with his head resting on his arms.

“Love,” Mycroft ran a hand gently down his husbands back. Greg groaned a little, “Shh, love, the boys are asleep, time for bed.” Greg turned his head to look in Mycroft’s direction and wearily opened one eye to look up at him.

“But-” Greg started to argue in a whisper, he was comfortable where he was, if Mycroft would let him he could just close his eyes and drift back off to-

“Gregory.” It may have been barely audible given the sleeping boys, but Mycroft was using his ‘do as your told right now young man’ tone and Greg’s shoulders drooped, there was no arguing with that tone. Well there was, but it would only end one way. Greg pushed himself up onto his feet and Mycroft laid his hands on his shoulders, gently guiding him out of the boy’s bedroom, pulling it ajar behind them. 

They didn’t say a word to each other as Mycroft continued to guide Greg from the boy’s bedroom into their own. Once they were safely inside with the door shut, Greg threw himself in a heap on the bed.

“Ohh, shit, I forgot about all the mess downstairs.”

“Language.” Mycroft smacked him once on his thigh as Greg was currently lying on his back and his arse was protected by the mattress. Although Greg was usually the one to chastise Mycroft, bad language was one of Mycroft’s pet peeves and something he spent endless hours lecturing grown up John and Sherlock about. Greg started to push himself up with a tired groan, but Mycroft put his hand on his chest, stopping him. “Lay back down, all of that can wait for the morning.”

“You never let me leave a mess overnight, that’s two nights in a row now.”

“Well, you’ve earned yourself a temporary reprieve from tidying up.”

“Have I now?”

“Mm.” Mycroft walked over to the edge of the bed. “Feet up.”

“Hm?” Greg looked up at him.

“Feet up, Gregory.” Mycroft gave each leg a tap and Greg lifted one foot at a time, Mycroft taking of his shoes and socks as he did.

“I love it when you do things for me.” Greg said, lying back and smirking at Mycroft.

“I know you do.” 

“How about a scotch?”

“You want me to go downstairs and pour you a glass and bring it back up to you?”

“I would like that very much. I mean it’s not our bedtime is it?”

“Well, it’s not my bedtime, the British Government doesn’t have a bedtime. You on the other hand-”

“Hey!”

“Hush, the boys are sleeping, and so may I remind you, were you a minute ago.” Mycroft lifted an eyebrow in Greg’s direction.

“Are you sending me to bed?” Greg asked incredulously.

“Mm, I believe I am.”

“You can’t send me to bed!”

“I believe you’ll find, I can.”

“Fuck off!” Greg said only half joking. He liked bossing Mycroft around when they were alone, he wasn’t sure how he felt about it the other way around. Mycroft used his leverage, currently holding his husbands legs, to lift them up and swat twice at Greg’s backside, hard.

“Language! I won’t tell you again, Gregory. I wasn’t joking earlier, any more trouble from you and I’ll put you over my knee.”

“I’m not one of the boys, Myc, you can’t tell me what to do.”

“Now, that’s where you’re mistaken. You’re not a little boy, no, the things we do in this room can attest to that-”

“The things I do to you, you mean” Greg added with a smirk.

“Quite. But you are still my boy, one of my three boys, and that means I can decide what’s good for you and make sure you do it.” At this Mycroft leant down and pulled Greg into a kiss. When he pulled away he heard Greg moan at the lack of Mycroft’s lips on his. “And I’ve decided that you are too tired, and need a good nights sleep.”

“You’ve decided.”

“I have.”

“And I don’t suppose I get a chance at a counter-argument?”

“Of course you do-”

“Oh!” Greg smiled happily and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“But I’m Mycroft Holmes, just how good do you think my counter-counter-argument will be?”

“Ah.” Greg flung himself back onto the bed with a thump.

“Ah, indeed. So will you let me undress you?” Mycroft looked down at him, Greg could see that he too was exhausted. But unlike Greg, in a few moments he would go back downstairs and have to work for a few hours to allow for his time spent with the boys. Greg could get time off of work just as John and Sherlock could, but for the British Government there was no such thing. Mycroft spent much of his time taking care of the entire country, but little did the entire country know that his favourite thing to do was take care of the three most important men in his life. If it made Mycroft feel better to know that he was taking care of his husband as well as his boys, then that was all that mattered to Greg,

“Yes dear.” Greg smiled up at him as Mycroft slid his trousers of before pulling him upright to remove his shirt. As Mycroft undid each button he lay a kiss on Greg’s chest, once the shirt was fully removed and properly folded Mycroft looked down at his husband. 

“You are the love of my life, you know?”

Greg thought about replying with something equally as heart felt but knew it would only make Mycroft uncomfortable. “You big softy.” Mycroft cackled, “Shhh, Myc, the boys!”

“Sorry.” Mycroft half smiled, half grimaced and kissed Greg again. “Now go to sleep, I’ve got work to do. If you hear the boys stir-”

“Myc, I’ve got it love, don’t worry. You go and save the world for another day, I’ll be here when you’re finished.” Greg stood and pulled Mycroft in for a kiss, “Don’t stay up too late, two hours, max, you hear me?” Mycroft rolled his eyes and turned away from Greg towards the door before a familiar large hand collided with his arse, he turned back to Greg whose eyebrow was cocked. “You can undress me any time you like Mycroft Holmes but don’t you forget who the real boss is, young man.”

“Whatever.” Mycroft sighed as he smirked and walked out of the room closing the bedroom door just in time to hear,

“You cheeky-”. He’d pay for that one later, but it was worth it.

Mycroft made his way downstairs hoping Greg would get a couple of hours sleep as he worked. He knew that he would usually wait up while Mycroft worked, even looking around the door of the study to check on him every now and then when he thought Mycroft wasn’t looking. (Mycroft found it adorable that Greg still thought he could get anything past him). He always felt a pang of guilt when he saw Greg’s tired eyes in the morning. Hopefully he would sleep for a bit so they could talk when Mycroft was finished. They had somethings to discuss about the boys but perhaps even more importantly, Mycroft just wanted to chat with his husband. God did he love that man.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter shows a little more of Mycroft and Greg's relationship when they aren't just parents to the boys.

Mycroft was exhausted, completely exhausted. There was the tiredness that came with looking after a young Sherlock and John, the kind of tiredness that made his ageing joints ache the morning after. Then there was the tiredness that came with his line of work, the never ending migraine kind of tiredness, the ‘is everyone in the world completely incapable of functioning without me even when I’m a worn down rusty stump of a man’ kind of tired. He picked up his phone and was about to dial when he noticed the familiar shadow standing in the doorway.

“What did I say about staying up too late?” Greg stepped into the study and shut the door behind him, turning to look at Mycroft his hands in the pockets of his dressing-gown.

“I know, I know.” Mycroft grumbled and rested his head in his hands for a moment before breathing in sharply and sitting up straight, “I haven’t had any choice in the matter.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

“You’re Mycroft Holmes as you so like to remind me, you have a choice in every matter.” Greg walked over until he was standing directly in front of Mycroft’s desk, looming over him a little. “Enough’s enough, Myc, let’s call it a night, eh?” Greg figured he would give the gentle approach a try, he didn’t doubt he’d end up pulling out his DI’s best before long, but he hoped Mycroft would just listen to him for once and see sense.

“I can’t, you go to bed, I shouldn’t be much longer.”

“No, no, you’re going to bed right now.”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, Gregory, I can’t!” Mycroft suddenly realised that his voice had become sharp and was coming out at a much louder volume than he had intended, and certainly the last thing he had intended to do was slam his fist down on the desk, but he’d done it. Then he noticed the expression on Greg’s face.

“Did you just raise your voice at me, Mycroft?” That was a difficult question, Mycroft could hardly lie and say ‘no’, because both men had been witnesses to the crime. But he also didn’t really want to say ‘yes’ and incriminate himself. “I asked you a question, Mycroft.” Mycroft suddenly realised that he had been having a conversation with himself in his head and had been oblivious to the time passing. He looked back at Greg, who didn’t look pleased. 

“Yes.” Mycroft murmured in little more than a whisper, now very interested in his own fingers. 

“Look at me, Mycroft.” Greg kept his tone even, but there was an underlying threat there. Mycroft slowly lifted his head to look up at his husband. “Your attitude is unacceptable, young man.”

Greg played the ‘young man’ card a lot where Mycroft was concerned, he found it was a pretty sure fire way of reminding him of his place. With a job like his, Mycroft spent much of his time telling people what to do. When the boys were around he spent almost all of his time telling people what to do. There was one person, however, that he never ordered around, and that was Greg. He could play at it a little on occasion, as he had done earlier in the day, but it was all done with the understanding that when it came to Greg and Mycroft, Greg was most definitely …. in charge. 

“But-”

“Ah, ah.” Greg held up his hand to silence him. “Don’t talk back to me you’ll only make it worse for yourself.” with that Greg turned on his heel and walked over to the leather bound arm chair in the corner of the room. It was very much Greg’s chair. He’d put it in the study as somewhere for him to sit when Mycroft was working as they didn’t like being apart from each other for too long. Mycroft never sat in the chair as he was always behind his desk working away, but found even its empty present somewhat comforting. A constant reminder of Greg. However, when he’d ‘misbehaved’ as Greg liked to put it, the chair was less comforting and more of a reminder of the ache his backside was about to feel.

Greg sat down and crooked a finger at Mycroft. “Come here.” Mycroft stood immediately and walked out from behind the desk and over towards Greg. He hadn’t even realised he’d done it, just moving at his husbands command, until Greg reached out and held his wrists. “I know your job is important, I understand that, but when I tell you do something, like go to bed at a reasonable hour, its because I love you and know whats best for you. You do the same thing to me and the boys all the time.”

“I know, but-”

“Holmes.” Greg growled and Mycroft’s mouth snapped shut. “Now, disobeying me is one thing, it’s disappointing and worrying because of just how hard you are working, but I could just about put up with that. Raising your voice at me like a petulant teenager, that, I wont stand for.”

Mycroft’s gaze was burning a hole in the carpet. “Look at me, Mycroft.” It took a few seconds but he finally managed to look into his husbands eyes. “That behaviour back there, that was what I would call a tantrum, and in this house tantrums are not acceptable.” Mycroft cringed a little at the words, he couldn’t count the number of times he had declared tantrums unacceptable to the boys. “I think your job makes you forget that there is still one person in this world that you need to respect. I am about to remind you of that. Over my knee, Mycroft.”

Mycroft’s eyes had wandered as Greg spoke, at the last four words Mycroft eyes snapped back to focus on him. “Gre-”

“No arguments! You are clearly long overdue some discipline. Now, over, my, knee.” Greg glared up at Mycroft giving him a moment to do as he was told on his own. He could see the conflict behind Mycroft’s eyes, the argument he was having with himself as to whether he should bend over of his own volition or not. “One.” This snapped Mycroft out of his own thoughts, he gave Greg another quick look to see if he could deduce any way at all to get out of this…

Nope.

With a sigh that only confirmed the ‘petulant teenager’ label that Greg had given him earlier, he lowered himself across Greg’s lap. 

“Making me count, Mycroft, really?” With that he rested a hand on Mycroft’s upturned arse. “I’ve obviously been so busy correcting the boy’s bad behaviour that I’ve been overlooking yours.”

“You’ve been busy?!” Mycroft instantly regretted his words and when he felt Greg’s hand reach under him to undo his belt, his regretted them even more.

“Bare it is then.” Greg said with a sigh, pulling Mycroft’s trousers down around his knees. “Now unless you want me to strap you, you’ll put a stop to all of that lip.” Although it wasn’t a question, Greg was expected a respectful response and when he didn’t get one he landed a hard smack on the back of Mycroft’s thighs, “Do you hear me?”

“Yes sir!” Mycroft spluttered.

“Good.” And with that Greg began giving Mycroft a hiding he wouldn’t soon forget. As was to be expected it took a lot longer for Mycroft to break under a spanking than either of the boys. Greg had been prepared for this and went at it until eventually, he heard the sound of sniffling coming from his husband. He stilled his hand immediately and began rubbing circles on his back. “There, love, that’s enough, I think.”

“Mmhm.” Mycroft nodded and Greg smiled to himself as he pulled Mycroft up to sit on his lap, pulling him back until he was resting his read against Greg’s chest.

“There, there, it’s all over now. I’m sorry I had to do that but I think you know it was well earned.” Mycroft turned to hide his blushing face in Greg’s chest. “I suppose at least now I’ll have a chance to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while I see to your arse-”

“You already saw to it!”

Greg laughed and kissed his husband, “I meant cream.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh.”

“That would be nice.”

“Yes it would. Now I meant what I said, no more work, Mycroft, up to bed with you, I’ll be up in a minute.” Mycroft grumbled something about ‘one more call’, “If you even think about work for one more second tonight, I will get the cane, Mycroft, don’t test me.” Mycroft was far too sore and tired to test Greg even if he had wanted to, and he would never want to, it would only end in tears for him. “Now be a good lad and go up to bed, please.”

“Yes sir.” Mycroft winced as he stood, Greg leant over and pulled up his boxers for him but pulled his trousers from around his ankles. 

“Carry those up love, I’m guessing you’re too sore to wear them.” Mycroft nodded glumly and took his trousers from Greg as he went to leave the room. 

Once he was alone in the room Greg sighed deeply and sat forward in the armchair, resting his head in his hands. He loved his husband and sons so much, but they could be a handful.

When Greg pushed the bedroom door open he smiled as he saw that Mycroft was already dressed in his pyjamas and lying arse up on the bed. He closed the door behind him. “Decided to be a good boy, Myc?”

“Mm, something like that.” Mycroft turned his head to smile at his husband. Greg held the pot of aloe vera aloft for him to see. Greg walked over to the bed and climbed up, settling on his knees next to Mycroft.

“This should make you feel a little better.” With that Greg eased his other half’s pyjamas down and began lightly rubbing in the cream.

“You warmed it.”

“That I did! Maybe next time you’ll watch your tone.”

“I meant the cream.”

“I know, love.” Greg leant down and gently kissed Mycroft on the small of his back. “Sorry if I was a bit heavy handed dear.”

“I deserved it, Gregory.” Greg stopped what he was doing and sighed to himself, resting back on his haunches.

“Do you think I’m too tough on you?” Mycroft pushed himself up on his elbows and turned to look at Greg.

“Of course not, love.”

“Are you sure, what about the boys, am I too hard on them?” Mycroft crawled over the Greg and sat in front of him, laying a hand on his cheek.

“Is everything alright?”

“I upset Lock today, I told him I’d paddle him. I scared him, I think, Myc.” Mycroft looked into Greg’s eyes, he seemed heartbroken at the thought. 

“You didn’t scare him, startled him a bit I think,” At that Greg’s eyes grew wide and tears started to fall, 

“My father scared the shit out of me, I don’t want to do that to our boys.”

“You don’t scare them like that, Greg. Neither of them likes a spanking, but they respect you enough to know you’ll hand one out when they deserve it-”

“He got so young after I said it.”

“He needed to know that he could still be very young with us, and now he does.”

“He wasn’t scared?”

“No. Not of you, maybe of the paddle a little bit, because he did slip younger. Their ages are going to change sometimes, Sherlock in particular. And you know as well as I do that when they finally get to be themselves after a case they’re a bit all over the place. We just have to learn how to respond to them in their different phases. It’s all a learning curve but I think we did that pretty well today. Besides, Sherlock wasn’t scared of the paddle once I explained it was for when he was older?”

“He wasn’t?”

“No!”

“Well you could have opened with that, love.”

“Gregory.”

“Sorry.”

“You know, there is no one that me, John and Sherlock respect as much as you. There is no one who’s hand we want to smack our arse less than yours. And there is no one we want to hold us more often. Your are a wonderful father and a perfect husband.” Mycroft leaned in for a kiss.

“You’ll tell me if I ever go too far, wont you?”

“I won’t need to-” Greg opened his mouth to complain but Mycroft held a finger to his lips, “But I will if it ever happens. Now will you kindly go back to massaging my arse you did a real number on me.” With that Mycroft threw himself dramatically back down onto his front, he and Sherlock were definitely from the same gene pool.

“Careful, love.” Greg tapped Mycroft’s red upturned arse a couple of times.

“Sorry, sir.”

“Thats more like it.” And with that Greg went back to the job at hand.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Mycroft couldn’t remember the last time he slept so well. When his blinked open his eyes there was light coming in through the crack in the curtain, he’d slept until it was light out, god it had been years since he had done that. Greg’s arm was still wrapped around his waist and he could feel his breath on his neck. In the distance he could hear the sound of birds chirping. He could lie like this all day. 

CRASH!

“Mornin!” Sherlock sang as he and John raced into the bedroom and threw themselves up onto the bed.

“Bloody hell!” So that was Greg up then. 

“Good morning, boys.” Mycroft pushed himself up and leant back against the headboard rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Once he could see clearly he looked straight ahead to see the two boys sat at his and Greg’s feet, smiling. Next to him Greg was pushing himself up into a sitting position but doing so in a much less dignified manner. Once he had stopped groaning and positioned himself next to Mycroft at the top of the bed he turned to face him, squinting in the new light.

“Good morning, love.” Greg kissed Mycroft and the boys fell apart in a heap of giggles. Before Greg could say anything else Mycroft leant over and smacked him on the backside, once, hard, even through the sheets. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Language, dear, I’ve warned you often enough.”

“Da got spanks gain, John-John!” Sherlock found this hilarious, throwing himself onto his back and kicking his feet, he looked like a cartoon character. Greg raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, clearly both of the boys were blissfully oblivious to what had gone on while they’d been asleep, only Greg seemed to notice the blush on his husbands cheeks. As the two men were sharing a wordless exchange, John had crawled his way up the bed to the spot right in between them.

“Ello!” both men jumped,

“Jesus, John.” Greg lay a hand on his heart, “You made me jump, lad.” John’s eye went wide, not sure if he’d done something wrong.

“Oh don’t worry John, dear, your Da was just so caught up in my good looks he didn’t notice you creeping up on us.” With that Mycroft wrapped his arms around John and pulled him into his lap, kissing him on the top of his head. “Good morning, John.”

“Me too! I says mornin first!” Sherlock started climbing up the bed, over Greg, before wrapping his arms around his Da. It took Greg a minute to right himself, Sherlock hadn’t been too careful with his limbs.

“So you did.” Greg puffed out his cheeks as he caught his breath. “Good morning, Lock.” Greg ruffled the boys hair and wrapped his arms around him so Sherlock could lean against him, chest to chest with his Da. 

‘No, I could lie like this, all day.’ Mycroft silently corrected his earlier thoughts.

“Did you two little monkeys sleep well?” Greg asked, his words slightly muffled by Sherlocks hair as he couldn’t tear himself away from kissing the boys head. He decided he’d rest his cheek on top of Lock’s head instead, that way he could look over at his beautiful husband and youngest son. 

“Yeth! I sleeped till now Da, till now!” Sherlock was very proud of himself, he wasn’t much of a sleeper even when he was little. 

“What a brilliant boy you are, Lock.” Mycroft nodded, “How about you John? Did you sleep well?”

John didn’t answer, instead he dropped his head and fidgeted with his Pa’s hands. Mycroft and Greg shared a look, maybe he was having bad dreams again. Mycroft stroked his hair and kissed him. 

“Well, you tell me or Da if you get sleepy later, okay John?”

“Kay.” John nodded and leant back against Mycroft.

“Good lad.” Greg managed to untangle a hand from Sherlock and squeezed John’s knee.

“Da?” 

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“Is me an John-John still on punsh-munt?”

“Mm, what do you think Pa?”

“Hmm, have you both been very very good boys while you’ve been sleeping?”

Sherlock nodded furiously, John went back to playing with Mycroft’s fingers. This action from John broke both of his dad’s hearts, did he think it was naughty to have bad dreams?

“Well then, I think your punishment is over.”

“Yay!” Sherlock threw his arms up in the air and Greg tickled his tummy.

“Now, what would you like for breakfast, John?” Mycroft looked down at his youngest and held him even tighter than before. John thought for a moment then tilted his head back so he could look up at his Pa.

“Pand-cakes?”

“Pancakes? Oh I think we can make some pancakes, that sounds like a lovely idea, doesn’t it Da?”

“Yeah! Pancakes are my favourite!” Greg leant over and tickled John’s chin making him giggle.

“Right, come on Lock, let me up.” Greg gently moved Sherlock off of him and stood up, Sherlock jumped off the bed after him and grabed his hand swinging it back and forth.

“You too, John, lets go downstairs, eh?” Mycroft looked down at John again, John turned over onto his front and held onto Mycroft tightly. “Oh, John, love.” Mycroft wrapped his arms around him and held him, rocking him back and forth very gently.

“Tell you what,” Mycroft looked up at Greg who was still holding Sherlock’s hand. “Why don’t Lock and I go and make breakfast, then we’ll bring it up here and have breakfast in bed.”

“Gregory-” Mycroft started, if eating on the sofa was undignified, he didn’t know how bad eating in bed was. 

“It will be a treat, wont it Lock?” Greg looked down at Sherlock who seemed very excited by the idea.

“A-huh! An I elp!”

“And Sherlock will help, you stay here and have a cuddle with our John-John and Sherlock and I will bring up breakfast in a bit.”

“In a bih.” Sherlock stood still for a minute and nodded at Mycroft, copying Greg. This made Mycroft laugh which was enough for Greg to take as a firm yes. 

“Follow me then helpful boy.” Greg led Sherlock out of the room, leaving Mycroft curled up with John. Mycroft could hear the sound of Greg talking away to Sherlock as they went downstairs, explaining all of the important factors in making pancakes.

“John, dear, climb under the covers for me, I don’t want you to get cold.” John was reluctant, worried that it would mean being too far away from his Pa for even a second. Mycroft sighed and pulled the duvet that was between them down until it had cleared John’s feet, then pulling it up and wrapping it tightly around them. 

“There, that’s better, now isn’t it?”

"Mm." John just about managed to murmur. 

"Have you had a bad night, sweetheart?"

"John-John bah." John nodded.

"No, no, love! John-John isn't bad!"

"Mmhm."

"No, no he's not. Did John-John have a bad dream though?"

"Mmhm."

"Oh, dear, well that's not very nice. I'll have to give the sleep fairy a spanking for being so naughty when I see her, now won't I?"

At this, John threw his head back and looked at Mycroft.

"Seep fawee?"

"Yes, do you know about the sleep fairy John?" John shook his head.

"Well, she flies into your room just after you go to sleep and she gives you a kiss on your forehead," Mycroft stopped to demonstrate. "Just like that, and then you have lovely dreams all night. But sometimes John, she can be naughty-"

"Liyke me an Lock?"

"Exactly like you and Lock, and when she's being naughty, she gives good boys, the very very best boys, a scary dream."

"Oh, tha is norty." John nodded.

"Mm, very naughty indeed, and if that's what she did to my good boy John, well she'll have a very sore bottom for the rest fo the day." Mycroft kissed John again and the little one rested his cheek on his Pa's chest.

"Do Pa no the seep fawee?"

"Yes I do." Mycroft nodded firmly.

"Pa nose evy-wun." John nodded making Mycroft smile.

"That I do little one, that I do."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Greg and Sherlock finally finished walking down the stairs, it always took a little while and a lot of attention from Greg to get the boys downstairs first thing in the morning. If little Lock hadn’t really woken up yet he could be a little accident prone, not having the co-ordination of his long limbs that he was typically used to. 

“Piggy!?” Sherlock threw his arms up in the air at Greg, as he did Greg took a step back and looked at Sherlock, his hands firmly on his waist.

“What did you just call me, young man?”

“No, Da.” Sherlock dropped his arms and stomped a foot at his Da’s lack of understanding, he let out a long sigh, parents were such hard work. “Piggy ba?” Sherlock held his arms up again, Greg finally caught on.

“Oh, piggyback.” He nodded and ran his hands over his eyes, he was still half asleep to be honest. Sherlock was just about to climb up onto his Da’s back when Greg held out a hand to stop him. “Wait, Sherlock, are you asking me to carry you from here,” Greg pointed at the spot between their feet, “To the kitchen?” he pointed the same finger at the kitchen door a few feet away and raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. 

“Yeh!” Sherlock grinned and nodded enthusiastically, holding up his arms to Greg and wiggling his fingers to show just how much he wanted a piggyback, it was a lot. 

“You lazy-” Greg pinched Sherlock’s right cheek, “cheeky-” his left, “monkey!” with that he swung Sherlock around onto his back like a rucksack and carried the laughing boy through into the kitchen.

It only took a couple of steps for Greg to realise that Sherlock had no intention of getting down any time soon, tightly clinging onto him he shifted his weight forward so he could lean over Greg’s shoulder and press his cheek against his Da’s.

“Right then, my lazy boy, what did your brother ask for, for breakfast?” Greg asked as they walked into the kitchen, before he turned his head slightly to the left and planted a kiss on the nearest part of Sherlock that his lips could reach.

“Ummmm.” Sherlock thought very hard, then remembered, using the leverage of his feet on Greg’s hips to bounce himself up and down a little bit, “Pand-cakes, Da!”

“Pancakes! So he did clever clogs, he asked for pancakes.” Greg (and Sherlock) walked over to the cupboard and paused for a second, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, “Shall I tell you a secret, Lock?”

“Ahuh, ahuh, ahuh! Peas!” Sherlock bounced again.

“Well, when your Pa makes pancakes, he gets all of the ingredients out and mixes it all together. When Da makes pancakes-” Greg opened the cupboard and pulled out a bottle of premixed pancake batter, holding it up for Sherlock to see, “I cheat.” Sherlock gasped and moved his head away from Greg’s so he could turn to look at him properly, Greg turned to look back at him.

“Dats cleverer.” Sherlock nodded, mouth open at the revelation of such an enormous secret.

“Isn’t it just, but we don’t tell your Pa.” Greg winked and Sherlock couldn’t hide his delight at being involved in such a grown-up naughty thing. “Now,” Greg patted the counter top in front of him, “park your bum here, please.” he turned around and let Sherlock climb down to sit on the counter. Greg turned back to face Sherlock and noticed him wince a little and shift trying to get comfortable.

“Oww.” he grumbled quietly to himself. Greg placed a hand on either side of Sherlock and leant towards him, raising an eyebrow.

“What do naughty boys get, Lock?”

Sherlock sighed dramatically, “Sore bums.”

“That’s right.” Greg nodded, mostly to himself before squeezing Sherlock’s cheeks in one hand and planting a quick kiss on his lips and moving away to look for cooking utensils.

“Ugh, Da!” Sherlock quickly wiped his lips on his hand to get rid of the Da germs.

“Oh, are you too old to get a kiss from your Da now?” Greg asked as he reached up to get down the frying pan he needed from the rack.

“Ahuh!” Sherlock was still wiping his lips on his hands and sleeve as he nodded.

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Greg started warming a frying pan on the stove and turned back to Sherlock, “I think you’re still my baby!” Greg took Sherlock’s head in his hands, “My sweet-” kiss, “tiny-” kiss, “kissable-” another kiss, “baby!” Greg planted a last noisy kiss, this time on Sherlock’s forehead and ruffled his hair as he moved away, leaving Sherlock giggling.

Once Sherlock had collected himself he looked over at Greg who was quickly turning the bottle of unappealing looking goop into a stack of yummy smelling pancakes.

“Can I do-ih, Da?” 

“Can you do what, love?” Greg looked over his shoulder at Sherlock who started miming using the frying pan to illustrate his point. “Oh, no, love. The stove is hot and the pan is hot. If we touch hot things...” Greg looked pointedly at Sherlock, waiting for him to finish another of the house’s common sayings, Sherlock sighed loudly once again,

“We geh hot bums.” 

“That’s right.” Greg turned his attention back to the stove to finish the last of the batter. 

“I geh spanks fur evie-fing.” Sherlock grumbled.

“That’s not true Lock. You don’t even get spanked for every naughty thing you do, if we did that you and your brother would never sit down.” Greg sighed to himself this time, god if that wasn’t true. He put the plate stacked high with pancakes onto a large tray alongside a smaller stack of plastic plates (Mycroft would have to deal with it (and Greg would get an earful)). “Now, my helpful, clever boy, what does everyone like with their pancakes? John likes….”

“Huneee!”

“That’s right.” Greg nodded as he placed a bottle of honey on the tray, Sherlock didn’t seem to notice that he had already lined up everyone’s choice of topping right by the tray. “And Da likes….”

“Jam!”

“Oh, such a clever boy, what would I do without you? Sherlock likes….”

“Shu-gahh!” 

“Unfortunately,” Greg mumbled just to himself as he placed a tiny bowl with no more than a tea-spoon’s worth of sugar in it, onto the tray too. He and Mycroft had worked out that was the minimal amount they could get away with allowing Sherlock whilst still getting him to eat his breakfast. “Last of all, what does Pa like?”

“Lemons.” Sherlock pulled a face at the thought and Greg laughed adding a small bottle of lemon juice to the tray.

“You Holmeses are odd duck’s aren’t you?” 

“Ahuh!” Sherlock grinned and nodded, “qwak qwak!” 

“Quack, quack indeed.” Greg walked over to Sherlock and lifted him down from the counter. “Now, can you do the very important job of leading the way for me, Lock?” 

“Yeh!” Sherlock grinned and starting marching off like a band leader,

“Careful on the stairs, young man! One at a time, please!” Greg shouted after him.

“Kay, Da!” Sherlock called as he raced up the stairs, Greg only heard him stumble three times and didn’t hear any tears so started to make his own way up to the bedroom, tray in hand.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Mycroft had just about calmed John into a light sleep, holding him close and humming a lullaby that always worked wonders on the boys. He knew it wouldn’t last though, Greg and Sherlock would be back with breakfast any minute. He would have left John until the last moment but realised that Greg would be carrying the food up, leaving an excited Sherlock to make his own way upstairs. The likelihood of Sherlock quietly coming back up to bed was very small, or rather, non existent, so Mycroft slowly rocked John.

“John, darling,” he sang quietly, kissing him lightly on his forehead, “John, sweetheart.” John’s eyes started to flutter open and Mycroft smiled down at him. “There’s my handsome boy.” Mycroft kept the soft, smooth rocking motion going. “You’ve had a rough night haven’t you my love?” Mycroft wasn’t expecting an answer, he already knew John must have had very little sleep last night. One of their boys drifting back off to sleep so soon after a boisterous good morning was almost unheard of, except for when John was struggling with bad dreams. “It’s alright, Pa isn’t going anywhere.” Mycroft heard John sigh, it didn’t really give him much relief from his worries about the boy. “Do you want to sit up a little? Da and Lock will be up soon with breakfast.”

John didn’t answer, instead he turned his head in towards Mycroft’s chest with a sad mewl. “Oh, it’s alright, it’s all okay, look-” Mycroft pushed himself with some effort until he was back leaning against the headboard of the bed and managed to manoeuvrer John until he was sat in his lap side on with his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning into Mycroft with his head under his Pa’s chin. Mycroft wrapped his arms around his boy and stroked his hair, humming the lullaby again.

Mycroft must have timed it just right because just as he had settled John into his new position, he heard the sound of Sherlock thundering up the stairs. “Here comes your noisy brother.” he reassured John before the bedroom door swung open again and Sherlock threw himself onto the bed.

“I’s back!”

“So you are chef Sherlock.” Mycroft managed a broad grin in Sherlock’s direction, however it didn’t have its desired effect as Sherlock’s eyes drifted to John’s face, the older of the two boys looked up at Mycroft with his own sad eyes.

“John-John bah dreams?”

“I’m afraid so, Lock.”

“Oh no.” Sherlock’s breath hitched a little. Grown up Sherlock had experienced John’s ‘bad dreams’ often enough that the terrifying memories of witnessing them were deep rooted and therefore terribly upsetting for little Sherlock to think about.

“Oh, my little loves.” Mycroft sighed and beckoned Sherlock over with his finger, not willing to unwrap his arms from John. Sherlock crawled up the bed and positioned himself right in the middle of it, leaning against the headboard next to his Pa. He leant his head on Mycroft’s shoulder and tentatively patted John’s arm.

“John-John.” Sherlock whispered, seemingly as a means to reassure himself. Upon hearing this Mycroft tightly wrapped his right arm around Sherlock pulling him close too, he had enough arms to hug both his boys, and Sherlock was adding another comforting limb for John.

“Oh you are such a good big brother, Sherlock.”

“Big buvva.” Sherlock nodded seriously, not taking his eyes off his John.

Greg had been standing watching this for a moment or two. The tray was too heavy to carry comfortably much longer but he had wanted to allow the boys to get comfortable before he brought another distraction in. Once he was happy they were settled he moved from his position watching through the crack in the door and walked into the bedroom.

“There are my favourite boys!” With that Greg put the tray down on the bed. “Pancakes for breakfast.”

“Oow, pancakes John, how lovely. And did chef Sherlock help?” Mycroft turned to look at Sherlock.

“He most certainly did.” Greg nodded as he got himself comfortable sitting on the opposite side of the tray to the other three.

“Elp a bih.” Sherlock nodded finally looking away from John and up to Mycroft.

“I’m sure you helped a lot dear.” Mycroft smiled down at him. “Right then, John, lets you and me share a pancake with honey.” Greg’s eyebrows shot up as he looked at his husband ‘just the once wont do any harm’ Mycroft silently told him, Greg snickered. Mycroft took the plastic plate from Greg, it was his turn to raise an eyebrow, and held it in front of John and himself. Much to his relief John reached forward and tore off a piece, putting it into his mouth.

“Mm, n’eyes.” John nodded, looking up at his brother.

“Fankoo John-John!” Sherlock beamed, very proud of himself. Greg smirked at Mycroft both dad’s knowing that Sherlock had very little to do with the cooking of breakfast.

“Okay, Lock, here’s a pancake for you,” Greg passed him a plate, “Now, I’ll pour some sugar on top-”

“I do it!” Sherlock sprung into action trying to reach for the bowl of sugar in Greg’s hand, he held it out of Sherlock’s reach.

“Ah, ah, champ, you let me or Pa do that, remember.” Greg sprinkled a little bit of the sugar on top and held the plate back over to Sherlock.

“More!”

“Sherlock.” Mycroft warned, watching as John picked up another piece of pancake.

“More, peas!” Sherlock corrected himself. Mycroft rolled his eyes.

Greg shook his head and put the bowl of sugar back on the tray.

“That’s more than enough sugar for a little boy, Sherlock, now eat up.” Sherlock hesitated, “Or you can have one with no sugar at all.” Sherlock reluctantly took the plate off of his Da with a pout. 

Mycroft tutted, “Pouting wont get you anywhere young man.” With that Sherlock pushed the entire pancake into his mouth and turned to look at Mycroft, still managing to pout. Out of the corner of his eye Mycroft saw that John was mimicking his brother, putting on an overly dramatic pout. “You two are as bad as each other.”

“John-John jus like me!” Sherlock said with a broad grin after swallowing his mouthful. 

“Ahuh!” John smiled back and nodded, “Big bruvva!” John pointed at Sherlock, poking him lightly in the chest.

“Mm, that’s right, just like your big brother.” Mycroft smoothed the hair out of John’s face and handed the empty plate back over to Greg.

“Would you like some more, John?”

John shook his head, leaning back into Mycroft and sighing. “No fankoo.”

“Oh, what lovely manners, John.” Mycroft rocked John gently. In the hope of getting some praise himself Sherlock thrust his empty plate back into Greg’s hands.

“No fankoo!” Sherlock copied John before Greg had a chance to ask him the same question, Greg smirked, stacking the tray with their now used plates and utensils. 

“Oh, and what a polite boy Sherlock is!” Mycroft added, reaching and arm around Lock to pull him close in a hug. “Such smart, polite boys, just like your Pa.” Greg snickered at this and Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

“I think today should be a lazy day.” Greg sighed and leaned back on his hands.

“Oh do you now?” Mycroft looked up at his husband.

“Yep.” Greg popped the P at the end of the word, the boys giggled, they had been copying him in this since the first time they had heard him do it. 

“And pray tell, what does a ‘lazy day’ entail?” There was a pause while Greg, John and Sherlock exchanged a look.l

“Pray tell?” Greg flung his head back to laugh and the boys followed suit. 

“Oh, you absolute rotters.” Mycroft sighed, only making the boys laugh louder. “What did I do to deserve the three of you...”

Mycroft suddenly felt a sharp finger pointing him in his chest, he turned to look at Sherlock, the owner of the finger.

“Evy-fing.” Sherlock grinned at his brother, Mycroft couldn’t help but smile back before looking over at Greg.

“Everything.” Mycroft nodded at his husband who tilted his head lovingly. “Quite right too.” Mycroft nodded. “Now, since you’ve taken a break from teasing me, will someone tell me what it is we’ll be doing today?”

“Toons?” John piped up.

“What was that John Hamish? Cartoons? Again?” Mycroft looked down at the youngest in his arms with mock outrage.

“Ahuh!” John nodded and giggled.

“Cos John-John sad.” Sherlock pulled a beautifully sad face and peered up at Mycroft who barked a laugh.

“Cheeky, cheeky, cheeky little boys!” Mycroft starting tickling them and Sherlock scurried away to the safety of Greg’s arms when he got a pinch on the bum, giggling as he was lifted into his Da’s lap.

“Well I wont let you watch cartoons all day-” Greg, John and Sherlock let out a loud ‘awwww’, and Greg heard Mycroft whisper something that sounded like ‘fuckers’. “How about we go for a nice walk this morning?”

“That’s a great idea.” Greg grinned, “We could walk up into the woods.”

One of the many reasons that this house had been chosen by Mycroft and Greg was because of it’s remoteness. As well as being in the middle of nowhere, despite the house’s small stature and little walled in garden, the house actually sat in it’s own enormous grounds. This meant that they could take the boys out for a lengthy walk into the ‘wilderness’ without having to worry about running into someone they knew. More importantly it meant that there was no chance the boys could get themselves seriously lost. 

Before they had decided to buy a house for their little family, they had been in the habit of renting holiday cottages to take the boys away to. On more than one occasion during these holidays, a well intentioned walk had ended with Greg and Mycroft pulling out their hair in fear as one of the boys ran off into the distance. It was one of the many downsides to taking care of Sherlock and John that although they had often had the mindset of very young boys, they were gifted with Sherlock’s rangy limbs and John’s military training, if they picked up speed it was almost impossible to catch them up. That was no longer a problem given Mycroft’s pedantic house hunting.

“Walk in tha wuds!” Sherlock nodded happily.

“What do you think, John, do you want to go for a walk?” Mycroft peered down at John in his arms. It wouldn’t be a very long walk, the boys would be put down for a nap sooner rather than later.

“Mm, kay.” John nodded after a good think about it. 

“Lovely. Well, we had better get our lazy bones out of bed then.” As Mycroft moved John moaned and clung back on to him. “It’s alright, John, I’m not going anywhere. Just let me stand up and I’ll carry you into your room and get you dressed-”

“No!” John shouted, never moving his face from Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft started to rub soothing circles onto John’s back as he shared a look with Greg.

“I’ll pop into the boys room and get some clothes, we can dress them in here.”

“Thank you, dear.” Mycroft turned his attention back to John.

“I ca dress my-self, Da!” Sherlock grinned up at Greg.

“Oh, I’m sure you can big boy! Will you help me pick your clothes for today?”

“Yeh!” With that Sherlock leapt off of Greg’s lap and raced out of the room.

“We’ll be right back, you two.” Greg got up with a groan and left Mycroft holding John.

“Oh, such a brave boy, John.”

“No.” John shook his head.

“Oh yes you are, you’re my brave boy. We’ll go for a lovely walk, and then you and Lock can take a nap with me and Da, how does that sound?”

“Wif Da an Pa?”

“Of course, darling, we’re not going anywhere.” at those words John closed his eyes again, taking deep breaths and feeling as safe as he ever had done, lying in Mycroft’s arms.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Greg led Sherlock into the boys bedroom by the hand as he giggled and hopped up and down.

“Right then big boy, I think we’ll need some cotton jammies and jumpers for our walk.”

“Yay!”

Greg and Mycroft had found that the jogging style cotton pyjamas of which they owned almost hundreds of pairs were perfect for taking the boys out into the woods. They were soft and warm and most importantly, easy to clean. Sherlock raced over to the drawers that Greg had painted with rocket’s that the boy’s had drawn themselves and flung open a drawer. As Sherlock rummaged through picking out a pair for him and one for John, Greg walked over to the window and opened it. He stuck a hand out and looked over at Sherlock who was sitting up on his knees watching his Da.

“Mm, it’s a jumper and coat day today.” Shutting the window Greg walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a jumper for each boy.

“Look Da! Rockits for John-John!” Sherlock held up a pair of rocket adorned pyjamas with a grin.

“That’s a great choice, Lock. What are you going to wear?”

“Hmm.” Sherlock threw John’s clothes onto the floor beside him and rummaged for his own clothes, “Aha!” he cheered as he found a pair with smily faces on for himself, “Dese, Da!”

“Another brilliant choice, right, you need pants and socks love, and some socks for John too please.” Sherlock piled his clothes on top of John’s and jumped up from his knees to look in a higher draw. Greg picked up the clothes from the floor and took a pull up from the box, he checked over Sherlock’s choice of socks, they were suitably wooly. “Lets go then, love.” With that, Sherlock raced off into his dad’s bedroom, leaving Greg to carry the mound of clothes.

“I picked you rockits John-John!” Sherlock called as he raced into the bedroom.

“Ohh, like rockits!” John nodded at Sherlock. Mycroft finally managed to shift John out of his lap,

“Right boys, lie down please.” The boys did as they were told, lying alongside one another on top of the bedsheets. Sherlock grabbed John’s hand in his and held it up in front of his face as he played with his fingers. 

Both dad’s worked getting the boys dressed simultaneously and soon enough the boys were sat up, watching as their dad’s got dressed too. Mycroft had conceded some time ago that occasionally in his role as a dad he would need to wear slightly less formal clothes. He’d gone out and bought a range on slacks and long sleeve polo shirts for himself, in his eyes he was practically wearing gym gear even though he still looked wonderfully well put together. Finally, Greg and Mycroft pulled on their own jumpers and stood in front of the boys.

“Doesn’t you Pa look handsome?”

“Gregory-”

“Yeh!” Both boys smiled up at Mycroft, it was taking a bit of getting used to, not wearing three piece suits everyday. 

“Me too! I hand-sum!” Sherlock hopped up off the bed and stood next to Mycroft, straightening out his sweatshirt and trying to copy his stance.

“Yes you are, very handsome indeed.” Mycroft turned Sherlock to face him and straightened out his clothes for him before ruffling Sherlock’s hair and giving him a kiss on his nose. Sherlock grinned.

“Well of course, you wouldn’t be our boys if you weren’t the best looking boys in town now would you?” Greg walked over to John who was still sitting on the bed, he lifted him up onto his hip in one quick move.

“Oh stop showing off.” Mycroft grumbled with a half smirk at his rather dashing husband. Greg smirked back.

“Right, enough primping you two, you both look lovely, now lets go downstairs and get our coats and wellies on.” Greg nodded in the direction of the door and gave both Sherlock and Mycroft a firm tap on the bum as they passed, eliciting two little yelps from the recently spanked Holmes brothers. Greg turned to face the little one in his arms. “What are we going to do with those two, eh?”

Little John sighed and shook his head like a put upon father, “They trub-al.” Greg chuckled as bounced John on his hip,

“That they are my boy.” Greg walked out onto the landing with John, Mycroft and Sherlock were already downstairs. “Are you two behaving yourselves?” he called down with a wink for John.

“Yes, sir.” The two Holmes’ called back with a sigh and Greg started to carry John down to join them. Sherlock was already wearing his wellies and trying his best to stand still as Mycroft zipped up his coat (the Belstaff was always carefully locked away out of little Sherlock’s grubby reach by a much more fussy grown-up Sherlock). Greg deposited John on the sofa and started to help him put his shoes on. 

“Now then boys, what are we going to do when we walk out of the door?” Mycroft cast a raised eyebrow in each of his sons direction.

“Old ands!” John chirped wiggling his fingers in his Pa’s direction.

“That’s right John, you must hold either my hand or Da’s hand.” Mycroft looked between the boys to be sure that they had heard him, his firm hold on Sherlock’s coat insured that he couldn’t hop off and get distracted anyway. “And what will we most certainly not do, William Sherlock Scott Holmes?” Mycroft looked down his nose at Sherlock and somehow managed to curve his eyebrow even more severely. 

“Run off.” Sherlock grumbled kicking his foot at the floor trying to look unfazed by the implied threat in Mycroft’s tone.

“Mm. That’s right. I’m hoping we can have a day when me and Da don’t have to punish either of you, but if you run off without us I can assure you that the very second I get my hands on you – and I will, boys, you know that – I will paint your bottom’s a shade of red they have never been before! And the very second we walk back through that door, you will go over your Da’s knee too, so think on that young men.”

“And I’ll tell you now boys, if that happens, I will make yesterday’s spanking feel like a love tap.” Greg added, they had experienced some rather trying misbehaviour from the boys on trips out before, he really hoped they decided against any such silliness today.

“Mm.” Mycroft nodded in agreement and both boys gasped and shared a look with each other, yesterdays spanking’s had been painful enough!

“Right.” Greg finished zipping up John’s coat, “I think we’re ready to go,” John jumped off the sofa and held Greg’s hand, “Good boy.”

“Hand please, Sherlock.” Mycroft held out his hand and Sherlock took it, though Mycroft could already see a glint in the boy’s eye that worried him.

The foursome had been walking along happily for about twenty minutes when Sherlock first tried to race ahead, stopped by Mycroft’s grip on the back of his coat.

“Sherlock!”

“Whaa?!” Sherlock turned back to face Mycroft and stamped an angry little foot.

“No running off.”

“Was-ant!” Sherlock stamped his foot again for emphasis.

“Stamp your foot at me again young man and I’ll carry you straight home.” 

Sherlock grumbled something unintelligible and Mycroft took his hand again and they carried on walking. 

They had been walking for another twenty minutes and decided to turn around when a tired John asked to be picked up. Greg obliged and they started making their way back to the house, however it hadn’t been quite the long adventure Sherlock had been hoping for. Mycroft had tried to calm him down with promises that the two of them could come back out later in the day but Sherlock still didn’t seem best pleased.

Then it happened, out of nowhere a bunny hopped across their path instantly captivating Sherlock who sprung free from Mycroft’s grasp as he sprinted after it.

“Fuck. Sherlock!” Mycroft took off after Sherlock and Greg stood still, holding a tired John close. Somehow Sherlock had managed to get quite a way into the distance when suddenly he stopped and fell to his knees peering down into the rabbit hole that the bunny had just disappeared into, giving Mycroft the chance to catch up with him. Mycroft didn’t make a sound until his hand was wrapped around Sherlock’s upper arm, pulling him away from the rabbit hole and up onto his feet. It was only then that Sherlock seemed to realise what he had done, looking up at Mycroft with wide eyes, Mycroft didn’t notice this however. He was too busy pulling down Sherlock’s pyjamas with his free hand and landing an almighty slap on the boy’s backside. Greg and John heard it all the way over where they were standing. Greg winced, that one stung.

“Owww! Pa!”

“You naughty, naughty boy Sherlock!” Mycroft pointed a finger at him, still not letting go of his arm. “What did I tell you not to do?!” When Sherlock didn’t answer, too busy trying to rub the sting from his bum Mycroft gave him a light shake, “Hmm?! What did I tell you not to do, Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked away from Mycroft and down at the woodland floor, “Run off.” he grumbled.

“And what did you just do?!”

“Buh bunny!” Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, surely he had to understand that the bunny was so important that he had to run after it, the bunny was far far more important than silly rules. 

“Sherlock, what did you just do?!”

“Run offed.”

As Mycroft spoke to Sherlock, Greg started to carry John over in their direction, they were closer to the house anyway.

“That’s right, you just ran off Sherlock.” Mycroft started to look around him, never letting go of Sherlock’s arm. In the distance he could see Greg closing the gap between the two groups, that was good but not what he was looking for. He scanned around him until he saw a tree stump. “Ah.” and with that he started to drag Sherlock over towards it. “I warned you, young man, I was very clear. Now-” Mycroft reached the tree stump and sat down on it, pulling Sherlock straight across his lap in the process.

“No, Pa!”

“Oh yes!” Mycroft answered. Greg heard the spanking start, Mycroft hadn’t been kidding, their boy was in for it. By the time Greg and John reached them, Sherlock’s backside was a fairly uniform, angry red colour. Mycroft stood the boy up.

“You’re mean!” Sherlock shouted at his Pa with yet another foot stomp, then giving Mycroft a shove, hard. Before Mycroft could respond he heard the sound of Greg landing a smack of his own, Sherlock span around to glare up at his Da.

“Myc, love, could you take John home, I’ll deal with this one.” Greg used his free hand to hold Sherlock in place with a firm grip on his shoulder and shifted John from his hip onto Mycroft’s back.

“Are you sure-” Mycroft started to ask, as he got John into a comfortable position to carry him back.

“Yep!” Greg suddenly bent down and hoisted Sherlock up over his shoulder landing another smack as he started to stride off towards the house.

Mycroft waited for a moment before he and John started to follow after them. “Mm, I don’t envy your naughty brother right now.” Mycroft said quietly.

“Na-uh.” John shook his head vigorously.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being so bloody lovely! You're all the best...

Greg was fuming, what had been a rather long leisurely walk out from the house was taking no time at all to repeat in the opposite direction. He was taking deep breaths that matched his long strides and Sherlock felt weightless, slung over his shoulder.

He was trying to work out what he was going to do with his boy once he got him home. He had learnt very early on in his ‘parenting’ days that some of the lessons he and Mycroft were teaching the boys were not just being taught to their little selves but their most grown up selves as well. This meant that important lessons had to be taught properly. Today Sherlock could be running after a bunny and giving his Pa a shove when he didn’t get his way. Tomorrow he could race off after an armed criminal and punch an innocent bystander for looking him at him the wrong way. Today, Sherlock had done the one thing that his parents had repeatedly told him not to do, and could very well have put himself in danger in doing so. Greg couldn’t stand for that at all. And as for shoving Mycroft, well….

The difficulty here was that Greg felt that today’s crimes deserved a harsher punishment than usual, but he was fairly certain Sherlock was nowhere near old enough right now to feel anything more than a hand on his backside. 

Greg’s least favourite tool for discipline was the cane. He’d never used it on either boy and hoped he would never need to. He had used it on Mycroft, twice, both times the result of him putting his life on the line for the job. There was something very distant about the cane that Greg didn’t take to but given Mycroft’s upbringing and education along with the fact that it packed a sting like no other meant he’d used it on those two, horrendous, occasions. But apart from that Greg had no intention of ever using the cane, it was locked away at the back of one of the wardrobes in their bedroom and he hoped to never lay eyes on it again.

When he felt the need to dish out something a bit harsher, Greg usually relied on his own belt. There was something more personal about it and he could still pull the recipient over his knee. Mycroft had felt it a few times, adult John and Sherlock too whenever they had done something particularly stupid or risky. But not today, no, Sherlock was far too young right now for such a punishment.

Then there was the newly purchased paddle. At a push Greg reckoned that Sherlock was just about old enough for it. But all of the upset it had caused yesterday led him to believe the boy would need longer to come around to the idea. So his hand it would have to be.

“Sorry, Da!” Greg landed another smack onto the boys still bare backside.

“I don’t think you are yet son, but you will be.”

“Yam! I-yam!”

“Hush now son. We’ll talk when we get back to the house.”

“Buh-” Greg landed another slap,

“No more noise, Lock.” Sherlock sighed and fell silent, only sniffing occasionally as he bounced with every step that Greg took.

Greg was still very cross and not in the right place to calmly handle Sherlock’s arguments. He had covered the ground back to the house quickly and the cottage was already in sight. But what to do with the boy?

Greg pushed the front door open and shut it once he and Sherlock were safely inside. Greg still held Sherlock on his shoulder and ran his free hand over his face as he thought. 

“Okay.” he murmured to himself, still carrying Sherlock he walked over to the bookcase and picked up his laptop, placing it on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen, he took a can of something fizzy and synthetic out of the fridge and walked back into the living room putting the can down with his computer. 

Finally he hauled Sherlock off his shoulder and stood him on the floor, pulling his jumper off over his head and his wellies, trousers and pants off of his legs. He folded the clothes and placed them on the coffee table and turned to look at Sherlock with a sigh. The boy was fidgeting trying to pull his t-shirt down, Greg landed a slap on his thigh, 

“Stop that, you don’t need to worry about that with your Da now do you?”

“No.” Sherlock grumbled at the floor. Greg pulled off his own heavy jumper and folded it up with Sherlock’s clothes before sitting down on the sofa with a loud sigh. He positioned himself right in the middle then pulled Sherlock over and across his lap so he was lying quite comfortably with his head and feet resting on the sofa on either side of Greg. Greg lay one large hand on Sherlock’s backside,

“Look at me, Lock.” Sherlock turned his head so he could look up at him. “Sometimes I just don’t know what to do with you, young man.” Greg waited for a response but didn’t get one, he looked at the boy’s face, he looked a bit sorry for himself but no where near enough for Greg’s liking, not after shoving his Pa anyway. “So,” Greg tapped Sherlock’s bum and he let out a little sad groan. “You and me are going to sit here, and we are going to have a long conversation about rules and consequences.” Greg gave him another firm pat. “And you are not going anywhere until I’m sure that you have learned your lesson. Do you understand me?”

Sherlock sighed but nodded.

“Sherlock.” Another pat.

“Yes, Da.”

“Right, good. First of all,” Greg lifted his palm up and landed a slap with every word, “you, do, not, run, away, from, us!” Greg continued his lecture, adding slaps with every few words, “Not ever! That is a rule for you, that is a rule for you brother, that is a rule for big Sherlock and for big John. You do not run away from us! Every single time you do, you will end up over my knee!” Sherlock buried his face in his arms, “No, lad, turn your face so I can see you, I wont have you hiding during a punishment.” Sherlock reluctantly turned his head to the side again so Greg could see him. “That’s better.” Greg gave him a solid minute of spanking before he stopped and rested his hand on Sherlock’s bum. “So, Sherlock Holmes, do you run away from me?”

“No.” Greg smacked him again, “No sir!” Sherlock quickly corrected himself.

“That’s right. Do you run away from your Pa?”

“No sir.”

“What happens if you break that rule?”

“Spanks.” Sherlock mumbled.

“Every, single, time.” Greg landed the last three smacks and stopped. “Now then, little boy, you are going to lie right there here, over my lap, and think about that for a little while.” Greg leant over Sherlock and tipped his laptop screen so he could sit back and read a bit of a report he had been working on. He sat back again and rested his hand back on Sherlock’s now very warm backside.

“Buh Da-”

“No, no, lad. You have still got quite a bit to learn.” Greg patted him a few times, “You are not going anywhere until I am certain you have learnt your lesson. So you will lie here and think for a while and then we’ll carry on.”

“Buh Pa and John-John-”

“Have seen your spanked bottom often enough. If you didn’t want to lie across my lap like a naughty boy then you should have behaved yourself. Now no more talking, Sherlock. Lie quietly and think about your behaviour.”

“Yes Da.” Sherlock sighed and Greg went back to his work for a moment while the boy thought, never moving his hand from his backside. 

When Greg thought he had given Sherlock enough thinking time he turned his eyes away from the screen and back to the boy over his lap. “Now then, time for a little more conversation. Are you allowed to push me or your Pa?”

“No sir.”

“No.” Greg went right back to spanking the boy. “You don’t ever lash out at me or your Pa, we are your parents, you will respect us! There is no excuse for it Sherlock, you, know, better! If you ever raise your voice in anger at us or act out with violence you will go straight over my knee there and then! I don’t care if it’s at the Yard or Buckingham Palace do you hear me?!”

“Yes sir.”

“Good! Because I don’t particularly want to bare your bum in front of Anderson and Donovan but I will if I have to.”

Sherlock just about managed a sad little nod. Greg reckoned he only had one more round in him, so he sat back and rested his hand on the boys bottom again.

“Lie still and think about that for a moment, Lock.” Sherlock nodded meekly again and Greg pretended to go back to reading, in reality he was keeping a close eye on his soon to be very well punished boy. 

The front door opened very quietly and Mycroft, still, to his credit, holding John came through the door. Little John was holding his finger to his lips, clearly he had been told my Mycroft to keep quiet. Both Mycroft and John took in the scene in front of them.

“Ah, here are the weary travellers.” Greg spoke in a normal volume to show Mycroft and John it was okay. He saw Sherlock visibly cringe at being seen like this. “Did you have a nice walk back?”

“That we did, didn’t we John?” Mycroft and Greg both looked at John who nodded.

“Good, as you can see I’ve got my hands full with a very naughty boy.”

“Mm.” Mycroft still didn’t sound very impressed with Sherlock. “I trust he is being suitably punished for his bad behaviour?”

“Yes he is. He still has a little more thinking time before I make sure the message has really sunk in.”

“Has!” Sherlock piped up, not looking away from Greg since he felt too embarrassed to look over at Mycroft or John.

“Ah, ah! Little boy, I will be the judge of that.” Greg gave him another couple of meaningful pats.

“Well I’m going to take this little one upstairs for a warm bath before his nap.” Mycroft poked John on the nose and he giggled.

“That sounds like a lovely idea. Once I’m done with this naughty boy I’ll bring him upstairs and we can tuck you both in.” Greg looked down at Sherlock who surprisingly nodded, the walk had been quite long and with all the trouble he had gotten himself into he was ready for a rest.

Mycroft nodded and started to carry John upstairs to the bathroom, Greg turned his attention back to Sherlock.

“Now then little boy, have you learnt your lesson?”

Sherlock nodded furiously.

“Mm, well just a little more because you were so naughty.” Greg spanked him a few more times and Sherlock was finally snivelling. Greg stopped immediately, pulling Sherlock up and sitting him across his lap so his sore bum was in the space between Greg’s legs, he wiped the tears from the boys face with his thumbs and held onto his waist tightly. “There, there, hush now darling, it’s all done.” Sherlock nodded with a hiccup. “Mm, that was a painful lesson eh, love?” Sherlock nodded and Greg reached forward, placing a hand on the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulling him towards him until his chest was leaning against his Da’s and his head was buried against his neck. Greg rubbed one hand in calming circles on the boy’s back and used the other to stoke his hair. “I know, I know, it’s all over now. I’m sorry I had to be big mean Da, but you were a very naughty boy, Lock.” He felt Sherlock nod against his neck. “But it’s all over now, and you wont make that mistake again any time soon will you?” This time Sherlock vigorously shook his head, no. Greg leant forwards a little to get a look at Sherlock’s bum and winced, the most recent onslaught on top of his previous spankings had left Sherlock looking terribly sore. 

“Okay dear, you hold onto Da’s neck, I’ll carry you up-” Sherlock started to whine, “I’ll be very careful of your bum. I’ll carry you up to your bed and put some cream on your naughty bottom before we all have a nap.”

“All?” Sherlock just about managed to ask.

“Yep, me and your Pa are going to stay with you while you nap today, wont that be nice?”

“Mmhm.” Sherlock nodded again.

“Okay, big boy, hold on for me.” Sherlock did as he was told and Greg stood up, supporting him under his thighs and carried him up to the bedroom. Once they were there Greg pulled back the covers on Sherlock’s bed and let the boy down. “Lie down on your tummy, love.” Sherlock nodded, wiping tears from his eyes with his fists. Greg rummaged around in the drawers until he found some aloe and tub of mild anaesthetic cream, a combination of the two should work quite well. He settled down on the bed next to Sherlock and started gently rubbing in the cream. “There we go, it should feel much better soon.”

“Sorry I wah a norty boy, Da.” Sherlock murmured.

“I know you are, love, thank-you for apologising.” Sherlock nodded at the praise and smiled a little as the cream started to make him feel better.

“Stay wif me, fur nap time?”

“Yes I will, love.” Greg screwed the tops onto the pots of cream and placed them on the table by Sherlock’s bed, he’d need another coat or two later. Sherlock shifted a bit, moving over in his bed, he tapped his palm down on the space next to him. Greg smiled fondly, “Do you want me to sit there?”

“Lie dare, peas.” Sherlock’s eyes were half closed and Greg couldn’t help but grin to himself. He always feared that the boys would hate him after a tough punishment.

“Well of course.” Greg kicked off his shoes and pulled off his jeans settling himself on the bed next to Sherlock. Sherlock instantly moved to attach himself onto Greg and the older man wrapped and arm securely around him. “My lovely Sherlock.” Greg planted a gentle kiss on the boy’s hair and sighed, closing his own eyes as they waited for the other half of their motley crew to join them.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

Mycroft carried a rather tired John into the bathroom and turned on the taps in the bath, still holding onto the little one.

“Right then love, lets get you into a warm bath and give your old Pa’s back a rest eh?” Mycroft went to put John down but he held onto his waist with his legs. “Feet down please.” John giggled and let go of Mycroft’s waist keeping his knees bent so feet wouldn’t reach the floor. “Very funny, John, feet down please.” John shook his head and giggled, “Hm, I wonder if there’s room on Da’s lap for another one.” John instantly dropped his feet to the ground and Mycroft let go, ruffling his hair, “Good boy.” John nodded, he was a good boy. 

Mycroft took off the boy’s clothes and checked the temperature of the water before helping him into the tub, then resting down on his knees to wash him. 

“That was a nice walk, wasn’t it John?”

“Mmhm.” John nodded, leaning back against the back of the tub. 

“I’m sorry Sherlock decided to be so naughty at the end.”

“Noh is folt.” John closed his eyes with a sigh. 

“Mm, well I don’t think we can really blame the bunny now can we John?”

“Nah, noh bunny folt buh noh Lock folt.” 

“Hm? Why do you say it’s not Lock’s fault?” Mycroft rubbed gentle circles on John’s chest and swept the damp hair off his face.

“Cos e scaw-d” Mycroft furrowed his brow.

“Scared?”

“Ahuh.” John nodded, not opening his eyes.

“Why was Lock scared, John?”

“Cos John-John scaw-d.” 

“Oh, okay, well is John still scared?” John opened one eye just a little bit to look at Mycroft.

“A bih.” Mycroft wasn’t sure if it was water from the bath or tears on John’s face but he leant up and wiped the water away from his eyes either way.

“A bit? Well, John and Sherlock don’t have to be scared anymore, you’re home now, it’s all going to be okay.” Mycroft put down the flannel that was in his hand and rested his palm over John’s heart.

“Pomise?”

“I promise you, John. I think we’ll have a little talk a bit later with you and your big brother, but for now, sleepy boy, time for a nap.”

“Mm.” John nodded and Mycroft stood up, reaching down and pulling the wet boy from the tub, not caring how wet he got in the process. Once he had John wrapped in a warm towel he felt John tugging at his jumper.

“Yes love?”

“Dun wanna nap in ow room.”

“You don’t want to nap in your room?”

“Na-uh.” John shook his head. Mycroft crouched down in front of him.

“But it’s your lovely bedroom, with all of the rockets and planets that you love, and that’s where Bear sleeps too.”

“Dun wanna.”

“But me and Da will be in there with you.”

“Yew will?” John tilted his head.

“Yes we will, we won’t leave you even for a second.”

“Noh fur wun secund?” John held up a single finger.

“No, love, not for one second.” Mycroft took John’s finger in his hand and kissed it. He had a feeling deep in his stomach that promising not to leave the boys alone in their room could lead to problems down the line. But right now, he really didn’t care, apparently he had two scared boys on his hands and that was all he really cared about. It didn’t matter if he and Greg never slept again so long as the boys felt safe. “So shall we try to take a nap in your lovely bedroom, me and John and Sherlock and Da?”

John thought seriously about this for a moment then nodded. “Kay. Try.” 

“That’s right, we’ll try.” Mycroft swept John up in his arms, still wrapped in his towel and ignored the growing pain in his lower back. “Let’s go and find your big brother.”

Mycroft carried John into the bedroom and smiled when he saw Sherlock and Greg lying wrapped up in a cuddle. John instantly flung his arms in their direction,

“John-John!” Sherlock squeaked, John wriggled in Mycroft’s arms trying to get loose.

“Let’s get you in some warm pyjamas first love, then you can cuddle your big brother.” Mycroft put John down on the floor and grabbed the first thing he found in the drawers, a zip up flannel onesie. “Hop in love.” Mycroft guided John’s feet and arms in and zipped him up. “There, all nice and warm.”

“Mmhm.” John nodded. “Off you pop.” John leapt onto Sherlock’s bed and climbed up until he was lying on top of his brother and Da, it wasn’t going to make for a very comfortable sleeping arrangement. “I’ve got an idea.” Mycroft moved around to the other side of John’s bed and with an undignified groan, pushed the bed over until it was next to Sherlock’s. “There we go.”

“Isn’t your Pa smart, now we can all cuddle together.” Greg sounded half asleep.

“Tired love?” Mycroft asked with a smirk at Greg as he got undressed too. 

“You can stop smirking, Mycroft Holmes, I’ve still got another smack or two in me.” Greg raised an eyebrow at Mycroft who blushed. Neither of the boys seemed to have noticed this exchange, they were now lying in the middle of the bed holding onto one another. Greg and Mycroft could just about hear the whispered story of the magic bunny that Sherlock was telling John.

Mycroft climbed into bed under the covers on the other side of John and he and Mycroft lay on their sides so they were looking at each other and each pulled a boy back into their chests. Mycroft wrapped an arm around John and Greg an arm around Sherlock.

“Now I think I’ve got three tired boys, hm?” Mycroft asked, kissing John gently on the top of his head and reaching over to stroke Sherlock’s arm.

“Mmhm.” John nodded.

“Lock, love,” Sherlock fluttered his eyes open and looked at Mycroft. “You don’t need to be scared by John’s bad dreams.” Mycroft kept stroking Sherlock’s arm and saw that Greg had tightened his hold on the boy. “Have you been scared, dear?” Sherlock paused for a second before giving a little nod, Greg pressed his lips against Sherlock’s hair and sighed to himself. “Oh, love.” Mycroft gently stroked Sherlock’s cheek bone and he leaned into the touch.

“Noh jus bad dreams, Pa.” Sherlock mumbled in a very small voice, his own hand now squeezing John’s.

“Hm?”

“John-John has bah dreams cos of real fings, real fings wot can get us.” John nodded and Greg’s eyes suddenly widened as he looked at Mycroft who was doing a very good job of holding things together.

“Now you two boys listen to me,” Mycroft didn’t want to sound stern but he wanted the boys to listen to him and believe absolutely what he was about to say. “Nothing bad and nothing scary is coming to get you. There is nothing in the world that could get past me and your Da. I promise you that.”

“That’s right, boys. You are home, and you are safe.”

“Now, I want you two to close your eyes and have a lovely rest, with lovely dreams. When you wake up me and Da will have a little talk with you.”

“Don go!” John quickly spun around and buried his face in Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft held a hand to the back of John’s head.

“Love, I’m not going anywhere. Shh, it’s okay.” Mycroft saw Sherlock’s hand tentatively stroking John’s back. “In fact I don’t think Da and I are going to let you out of our sight for a while.” Sherlock quietly sighed at the reassurance, “But we will talk about that later. For now, some quiet time.”

“An yew wont go?” For a split second Mycroft assumed it was John asking, then realised it was Sherlock.

“No Lock,” Mycroft managed to wriggle one hand free from under John and stroked Sherlock’s hair, “No my love, we’re not going anywhere.”

“Issa pomise!” John nodded into Mycroft’s chest.

“That’s right, John, that’s a promise. Besides I think I’ll have to shuck your Da off you like a barnacle when it comes time for a bath!” Mycroft winked at Sherlock who grinned, suddenly aware of how tightly Greg was holding onto him.

“Mm, nope!” Greg popped the ‘P’ to make the boy’s laugh, “We’ll just have our bath together wont we Lock?”

“Ahuh!” Sherlock giggled and nodded.

“We’ll see, cheeky boys, but for now I want everyones eyes closed. It’s quiet time.” The boys gently closed their eyes, “That means you too Gregory, unless you want to spend your quiet time with your nose in the corner.” Mycroft added this knowing that the boy’s loved it with one of their dad’s was chastised by the other. Sure enough the boys giggled, not opening their eyes and Greg winked at Mycroft before adding a put upon,

“Yes sir.” with a sigh.

Although both Mycroft and Greg could have done with a long rest themselves, it had been quite a tiring morning so far, neither of them slept. Instead lying, holding their boys tightly and sharing loving but concerned look with each other. They had a lot to talk about but one thing was for sure, this wasn’t going to be a quick couple of days for the boys to let off steam.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Greg and Mycroft had waited until they were sure that both of the boys had nodded off before picking up their phones from the bedside tables where they had been discarded. Mycroft flicked his on silent and pointedly held it up to Greg,

“Silent!” he mouthed.

“I know!” Greg mouthed back, rolling his eyes. If it weren’t for the boys lying peacefully between them Mycroft would have kicked him in the shin.

Since being parents to Sherlock and John they had become quite used to silent discussions, texting each other whilst they were in the same room. Although neither of them could remember doing it while they were quite so close before. 

‘Parental abandonment, you said!’

‘That’s all there was, I swear!’

‘I thought you were keeping an eye on their cases?’

‘Of course I am! And like I said, there was parental abandonment in this case, I thought it would upset John, it always does. I was expecting him to be clingy. I thought a bit of reassurance was all the boys would need.’

‘Well it seems like there’s a bit more to it than that Gregory!’

‘Yes obviously, Myc.’

‘Well what is all this?’

‘I don’t know! You’re Mycroft fucking Holmes, isn’t it your job to know?!’

‘Yes, it is.’

….

‘Myc, I’m sorry, it’s just I don’t know what’s going on.’

‘I know, I’m angry at myself too.’

‘We need to work this out.’

‘Yes. Once the boys are up and settled I’ll go into the office, find out what’s going on.’

‘No, I’ll go, I’m the D.I after all.’

‘And I’m Mycroft Holmes, after all.’

‘We could try to talk to the boys. Ask them to age up? Just for a moment.’

‘No! We can’t do that right now they’re too fragile!’

‘We need to know who it is they think is coming after them!’

‘I know that. But that’s not the way to do it. In fact I don’t think we should encourage them to age up any time soon.’

‘No me neither, but for how long?’

‘At least until we have solved whatever problems are waiting for them in the adult world.’

‘Will they want us to do that?’

‘Fuck no. But we’re they’re parents, little or grown these days, it’s our job.’

‘That it is.’

‘They’ve been through more than enough in the last few years, we need to take this hit for them.’

‘You’re right.’

‘So we’re decided. They stay here, with us, safe and cared for until we make the grown up world safe for them again?’

‘How long do you think it will take?’

‘A day, a week, a month, I don’t know until I know more.’

‘So you’ll go into the office?’

‘For a couple of hours. Long enough to catch up on the case they say they’ve just sold and to instruct my best men on what we’ll need from them.’

‘Don’t be too long.’

‘I wont. The boys need both of us.’

‘Yeah. Do you want to slip out while they’re asleep?’

‘No! I made a promise to John that I wouldn’t leave. I need to explain where I’m going when they wake up.’

‘You’re always right.’

‘I’m Mycroft Holmes.’

‘Stop bragging about that.’

‘Yes dear.’

‘Myc?’

‘Love?’

‘Are we safe here?’

‘Always.’

“Fone!” Sherlock grabbed Greg’s phone from his hand. There was a strict ‘no-phone’ policy for the boys in the house.

“Sherlock.” Greg spoke quietly, trying not to wake John.

“Mine!” Sherlock grinned and had spoken loud enough to wake John who groaned. “John-John I goh a fone!” John rubbed his eyes and looked up at Mycroft whose brow was severely furrowed.

“Sherlock Holmes give that phone back to your Da this second.” Sherlock peeked over his shoulder as Mycroft. “Mm, thought I was asleep did you?” Sherlock nodded glumly and handed the phone back to Greg who let out a loud sigh, he hadn’t seen anything on the screen. Mycroft looked down at John who had reattached himself to Mycroft’s chest now he was awake. “Hello there sleepy head.”

“Hi.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Mm.”

“Are you still tired, love?”

“Mmhm.”

“Well close your eyes again, see if you can sleep a little bit longer.”

“Kay.”

“Sherlock, you too.”

Sherlock yawned loudly and much to everyones surprise, nodded at the idea of more sleep. Apparently the repeated lights on their phones had woken the boys up before either of them was ready. 

“Boys, before you doze off again, your Pa has to pop out for a moment.”

“No!” John grabbed Mycroft hard. Mycroft rolled his eyes at Greg, he wasn’t going to raise that just yet.

“Only for a moment, John, but you Pa has something very important he has to go and do.” Greg raised his eyebrows pointedly at Mycroft, as far as he was concerned this problem couldn’t wait any longer and he was more than capable of dealing with two fussy boys. Regardless of what Mycroft might think. 

“No peas! No peas Pa!” John was clinging onto Mycroft for dear life. Mycroft wrapped an arm around John and pulled himself up into a sitting position, John wrapped his arm around his shoulders. 

“Shh, John, it’s okay love.”

Sherlock pushed himself up until he was kneeling behind John and gently patted him on the back, “S’okay John-John.”

“John, dear, your Da’s right, I do have to go out for a little bit-” John let out a pained moan, “So how about you and Lock play with Da for a while and then when I get back we can all try and have a nap.”

“No seep?”

“Not if you don’t want to love. Do you want to play for a little while?”

“Ahuh.” John nodded, feeling a bit calmer.

“We can watch some cartoons, John.” Greg pushed himself up and pulled Sherlock back into his lap, “Can’t we Lock?”

“Yeh! Toons, John-John!”

“Oh you naughty boys, yes I suppose you can watch some cartoons while I’m out, since I wont be long.” Mycroft winked at Greg. 

“Spaceman?” John turned around, letting go of Mycroft’s neck and leant back against his chest.

“Yeh, cah we watch spaceman, Da?” Sherlock tilted his head back to look at Greg.

“Of course.” Greg nodded, holding Sherlock close. “I think I’ve got some chocolate biscuits in the cupboard, too.”

Sherlock and John stared open mouthed at each other. “I wan choc-ate!” John jumped out of Mycroft’s lap and ran towards the bedroom door, apparently young enough to have forgotten all about his worries, at least for the moment. Greg shuffled Sherlock off his lap and went after him.

“John, lad, wait for me!”

Sherlock gave Mycroft a small smile and the older man leant over, pulling him easily into his lap.

“I’m glad I’ve got you alone for a moment, Lock.” Sherlock looked up at him with wide eyes. “You have been such a good big brother for John.” Mycroft stroked his hair gently. “Thank you for looking after him so nicely.” Sherlock gave a little nod at the praise, it had been hard for him. “But it’s not your job to look after John, it’s mine and it’s Da’s but it’s not Sherlock’s. It’s our job to look after you. So if you’re worried, or scared about anything at all, I want you to tell me. You’re my boy, and you don’t have to fix anything anymore, just tell me and I’ll make it all better.” Sherlock let out a loud sigh and titled forwards, resting his forehead against Mycroft’s chest. Mycroft ran a hand up and down his back, “There, there, it’s all going to be okay.”

“Mm.” Sherlock nodded, suddenly feeling as though the weight of the world had been lifted off of his shoulders. His Da and Pa knew that there were scary things out there, and they wouldn’t let them hurt him or John-John.

“Right then little one, lets go and find your brother.”

“An chok-it!” 

“Mm, and chocolate, apparently!” Sherlock started to make his way towards the door and paused holding out a hand and waiting for Mycroft to take it. Mycroft walked over, taking his hand in his and kissed it. “I’ve got to get dressed, love, I’ll be down in a moment.” Sherlock thought for a moment,

“I elp?”

“Hm? You want to help me get dressed?”

“Ahuh.” Sherlock nodded with a grin.

“Well that would be very helpful, thank-you.” Mycroft gently pulled Sherlock after him, out onto the landing and into the dad’s bedroom. Once they were stood in front of the large wardrobe, Mycroft positioned Sherlock in front of him and opened the doors. “Now then, which suit shall I wear?” Sherlock looked along the row of beautifully tailored suits until he found one he liked the look of. 

“Dis one. Dis one pretty.” Sherlock nodded.

“Well thank you, and yes it is rather, isn’t it?” Mycroft took out the suit that Sherlock had selected and lay it on the bed. “Could you get me some socks out of the drawer please?”

“Ahuh.” Sherlock hopped off to complete his next task and Mycroft started to get dressed. Once Sherlock returned he stood looking at Mycroft pull on his suit. He always thought of the three-piece suits as Mycroft’s suit of armour. Once Mycroft was dressed he looked down at Sherlock who had sat down on the floor by his feet. Mycroft crouched down.

“Shall I show you something special, Lock?”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, “Peas?”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” Mycroft reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and pulled out a small gold coin, he handed it to Sherlock. “I have one of those in the pocket of each of my suits.” Sherlock turned it over in his fingers then looked closely at it.

“Was it say, Pa?”

“Well,” Mycroft took the coin in his hand, it was completely smooth on one side and engraved with letters on the other, “It has nine letters engraved on it. If I tell you what they are, see if you can work out what it means, clever boy.” Sherlock nodded at the challenge. “Well, on the top row it says, G.L, on the middle row is says, W.S.S.H and on the bottom row it says, J.H.W. What do you think that means?”

“Umm.” Sherlock put his finger in his mouth as he thought. “Jah, wuh, is like John-John Wasson.”

“That’s exactly right, Lock, J.H.W means John Hamish Watson. Well done!” Sherlock beamed. “Now, what about W.S.S.H?”

“Uhh.” Sherlock thought again, this one was hard.

“Well, Lock, what do I call you when you’ve been very naughty?” Sherlock thought for a moment then bounced on his bum,

“Will-yam Sherlock Scott Holmes!”

“Right again! Aren’t you the smartest boy. So the second line is your name and the last line is John’s name. Now what about G.L?”

Sherlock thought again but didn’t come up with any answers, “Dunno.” Sherlock looked at Mycroft inquisitively. 

“Well G.L stands for Greg Lestrade.”

“Whos dat?” Sherlock looked up at Mycroft with innocent inquisitive eyes, with no idea how apt the question was coming out of his mouth. Were he older Mycroft would have clipped him on the back of the head for that one. Instead he ruffled his hair.

“That’s your Da’s name, silly!”

“Ohhh.” Sherlock nodded, then pointed one finger and pulled a cross face, “Gegory.” He mimicked Mycroft. Mycroft threw his head back with a cackle.

“Exactly!”

“So is us?”

“That’s right, it’s you and your brother and your Da, all on this coin. I have one in every suit and I wear it in the pocket right here,” Mycroft slipped the coin into the pocket on his waistcoat and tapped it with his palm. “Right over my heart.” Sherlock leant forward and placed his hand over the coin as Mycroft had done. Mycroft grinned and held Sherlock’s chin in his hand, “I love you so much. Now, let’s go find your brother and Da.” Mycroft moved to walk away but Sherlock threw his hands up in the air, Mycroft looked down at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Up, Pa?!”

“How do we ask nicely, Sherlock?”

“Up, Pa, peas?”

“Well alright then.” Mycroft leant down and picked Sherlock up in his arms, he’d need to remember to take some pain-killers for his back. He then carried the boy downstairs.

Greg and John were already curled up on the sofa watching a cartoon with a pack of biscuits ripped open on their lap. As soon as Mycroft took the last step down Sherlock jumped out of his arms and leapt onto the sofa with them.

“Oh for goodness sake, I haven’t even walked out of the door and you’re already behaving like louts!” 

“Yep! They might get their brains from you, but their lazy bones are all me, love!” Greg grinned at Mycroft, the boys giggled away.

“Well I wont be long, don’t have too much fun now!” Mycroft made his way towards the front door and paused. “Behave yourselves,” he pointed a finger in the group’s direction.

“Yes Pa.” The three called back in unison. Mycroft chuckled as he walked out of the door, apparently the boys were distracted enough not to let his short absence worry them anymore. Now all he had to hope was that they behaved themselves while he was gone.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

“Okay lads, that’s enough telly for now.” Greg stretched and yawned as he sat up, reaching for the television remote and turning off the colour filled screen.

“Noooo!” the boys whined loudly.

“Not fair Da!” John started pulling at Greg’s arm trying to get him to hand over the remote.

“Stop that John.” Greg tried to pry John’s hands off of him but the boy kept pulling so he turned and gave him a look that made John release his grip. He sat back on his haunches with a huff. “We on-ee washed for a minit!” John pounded his balled up fists on his thighs. “Thas not fair!”

“John we have been watching telly for at least forty-five minutes now. I gave you fifteen minutes longer than you are normally allowed. That is more than enough.” 

“No!”

“John, settle down, right now junior.” Greg pointed a finger at John but turned when he felt Sherlock tug lightly at his other sleeve.

“Peas? Peas wash more?” Sherlock wrapped his arms around Greg’s left arm and rested his chin on his shoulder, boy if he didn’t look adorable. 

“No, you’ve both watched more than enough, now we can either do something else or we can go back upstairs and finish our nap. What will it be?” Greg was looking between the two boys waiting for an answer. In most situations it would be Sherlock who jumped to respond but this time he peered around Greg to look at John, waiting for him to lead the way.

“No nap.” John grumbled cross his arms tightly across his chest. 

“Yeh no nap.” Sherlock nodded at Greg.

“Okay, shall we go outside and play for a little while?”

“Football?!” John asked a little louder than necessary.

“If you two can play nicely, then yes. What do you say Sherlock? Would you like to play in the garden?”

“Mm.” Sherlock thought for a minute, chewing on his finger. Although he really didn’t like playing football in the garden there was something rattling around in his head that made him feel then need to impress John so he nodded. “Kay.” At that he firmly pushed his thumb into his mouth.

“Good boys, lets go and get some shoes on.” John hopped off of the sofa and raced into the kitchen, sitting down on the floor by the door as he started to pull on his shoes. Greg stood up and looked down at Sherlock who was still sat on the sofa, he held out a hand. “Come on then Lock,” Sherlock took his hand and let his Da pull him to his feet and gently tug him towards the back door. “No thumb, love.” Sherlock nodded and took his thumb from his mouth as they walked. “Do you need some help, John?”

“No!”

“Okay, lad, calmly please.” John pulled the velcro on his shoes a bit tighter than they required and jumped up to this feet, hopping up and down as Greg crouched in front of Sherlock to help him with his shoes. “Pop your hands on my shoulders, Lock.” Sherlock did as he was told and Greg managed to manoeuvrer his feet into his shoes.

“Come on!” John was still hopping up and down, knowing that they weren’t allowed to open the back door themselves unless it was an emergency. “’Urry up, Da!”

“Yes, yes, John, be patient please. Right,” Greg patted Sherlock on the hip as he stood back up, “All set.” Greg leant over the boys and opened the back door. John ran out into the walled garden as if he had been cooped up for months. Sherlock however stood quietly, looking up at Greg, his thumb back in his mouth. Greg tutted at the sight, “No thumb, Lock,” Greg tried to gently pull Sherlock’s thumb from between his lips bit he shook his head no.

“Nnnh.” Sherlock furrowed his brown and looked up at Greg.

“No thumbs, love, but would you like your dummy?” Sherlock’s face instantly softened and he nodded, finally releasing his thumb from between his teeth. “Okay.” Greg turned around and walked to the draw where they kept a countless number of pacifiers. Picking out a blue one he thought Sherlock would like he walked back to him and held it up to his lips, Sherlock instantly took it into his mouth and pressed his hand over it to stop Greg changing his mind and taking it away. Greg chuckled. “I’m not going to take it, Locky.” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “Come on, lets go and play with your brother.” Sherlock looked over his shoulder at John in the garden, he was busy racing around and around in circles seemingly for no reason. Sherlock looked back at Greg and held his hands up. “Oh, come on love, lets try and play with John-John, eh?” Greg took one of Sherlock’s hands in his and gently led him out into the garden.

“What are we playing, John?” Greg called to him as Sherlock leant against his side.

“Rockits!” John shouted as he continued to run in large circles around the garden.

“Ohh, rockets Sherlock, shall we play?”

“Nnh.” Sherlock shook his head and wrapped his arms around Greg’s waist, burying his face in his sweatshirt. John stopped running for a moment and looked over at Greg and Sherlock, he spotted the pacifier in his brother’s mouth and looked up at Greg, suddenly cross.

“Babies carnt play rockits, Da!”

“John.” Greg gave John a look that should have told him to stop, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t want to do as Greg was telling him.

“Onee big boys can play rockits! Like me!”

“Well then, big boy, I’m sure you can play by yourself, Sherlock and I will watch.” 

John stamped his foot, not happy with the deal Greg was making but it seemed better than letting a baby like Sherlock play his big boy game so he grumbled, “Fine.” and went back to running around. 

Greg looked around to see if there was anything he could find to convince Sherlock to play, if he could get them both physically tired, getting them to rest again would be easier. He spotted a discarded soft football on the floor and manoeuvred Sherlock off his waist so he could walk over and pick it up. Once the ball was in his hands he turned to look back at Sherlock, who looked very small standing on his own. 

“Here, Locky.” Greg rolled the ball gently along the floor at Sherlock who flinched. “It’s okay, just roll it back to me.” Sherlock was unsure, but slowly approached the ball and pushed it back in Greg’s direction. Greg instantly beamed at him. “Good job!” He saw Sherlock smile slightly behind the pacifier in his mouth. They continued to gently roll the ball between them for a few minutes before it happened.

John raced over, bored of playing on his own and reached Sherlock just as the ball rolled to his feet. Sherlock, who hadn’t noticed John, bent down the roll the ball back to his Da just as John grabbed it out of his reach and held it tightly to his chest. Greg thought there was a chance he could prevent aything bad from happening,

“Do you want to play with us, John?”

“No!” John turned his body so the ball was even further from Sherlock.

Greg expected the young Sherlock to cry or run inside, but he didn’t, he stepped towards John and reached out, grabbing the ball and trying to pull it away.

“No!”

“Mines!”

“Na-huh!”

“Boys.” Greg sighed and started to make his way over to them just as the ball was discarded all together and the boys threw themselves at each other, falling to the floor and swinging fists. “Boys!”

John and Sherlock ignored their Da until he was roughly pulling them apart, “Enough!” The boys only stopped fighting once Greg was holding them both by the scruff of the neck. Greg was tired and frustrated but silently impressed by the fact that Sherlock still had the pacifier in his mouth.

Greg pulled the boys into the house and stopped just inside the door. “Right, I need to get these muddy shoes off, will you behave if I let go?” He looked down at the boys who both nodded. “Good.” He knelt down and pulled off the boy’s trainers, leaving them by the door and stood back up, his hands on his waist looking down at them. “Now then, are you going to tell me what all of that was about?” Neither son looked up from the floor. “Well, nose in the corner, both of you.” Boy boys snapped their heads up, looking at their Da as if he had just sentenced them to life in prison. “Oh don’t give me that look, you’ve both been very naughty, you know fighting is never allowed. Corners, now.” They didn’t move, “Now!” Greg leant over the top of them and smacked each boy hard on the bum. Finally they did as they were told and scurried into the living room to stand in their respective corners.

Greg sighed and moved to follow them when his phone chirped.

‘How are they? M’

‘In trouble. G’

‘Oh dear. M’

‘How long will you be? G’

‘A few more hours I’m afraid. M’

‘Don’t worry. I can deal with them. G’

‘I never doubt that! I’ll see you soon. M’

Greg walked into the living room and took the boy’s egg timers off of their position on the shelf.

“John, five minutes. Lock, three minutes.” Greg set the timers and placed them on the coffee table where he sat down and watched them.

After a little while John began to kick lightly against the wall in front of him.

“John, stop that.” He stopped for a moment before he started drumming his hands against his legs.

“Junior, that’s enough now, or I’ll stop your timer until you behave.” John let out an over the top sigh and threw his head back just as Sherlock’s timer pinged. “Watch the attitude young man. Well done Lock, come here please.” Sherlock turned around and shuffled towards Greg, he still had the pacifier in his mouth and Greg knew he should have taken it before he sent him to the corner but Sherlock seemed a little too fragile at the moment. “Now then, what do you have to say, Locky?” Greg ran his hands up and down the boys arms.

“Sowee faw fiytin wif John-John, Da.” Greg nodded and pulled Sherlock’s head down so he could kiss his forhead. 

“Thank you for apologising, now sit down on the sofa and wait for John.” Sherlock did as he was told without asking why and Greg turned his attention back to John standing in the corner. The second John’s timer pinged he started to run from his corner in the direction of the kitchen. “John!” he reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned to face Greg. Greg beckoned him with his finger. “Come here, John.” John walked over to Greg, more jumpy and agitated than his brother had been, he reluctantly stood on the spot on floor that Greg was pointing at looked down at his feet. “Now, what do you have say John?”

“Sorry.” John mumbled so quietly Greg could barely hear it.

“What was that?”

“Sorry!” John shouted this time and looked up at Greg angrily.

“Oi!” Greg smacked him once on the backside, before pointing a finger at him “Be very careful young man, you do not talk to me that way.” John looked back down at his feet. “Now, will you apologise properly or do you need to go back to the corner?” John made a frustrated little noise but looked up at Greg.

“Sorry fah fightin wiv Lock, Da.” although it was still mumbled, Greg thought it was the best he was going to get out of the boy. “Right, thank you for apologising, now go and sit with your brother.” John walked over and threw himself onto the sofa next to Sherlock, the two boys looking at Greg as he walked over and stood in front of them.

“Do we fight in this house?” It was a simple question.

“No.” Both boys answered.

“What happens when we act out with violence, boys?”

“Spanks.” Again the boys spoke in accidental unison.

“That’s right. Now usually I would give you a hiding for that sort of behaviour, but I know that the two of you have been having a hard time lately, and I think that’s why you both acted out just now. So, just this once, I’m only going to give you each a couple of smacks on your bum and then you are going to go and sit nicely and colour while I make you something to eat.” Greg saw each of the boys relax when the threat of a ‘full-blown spanking’ was off the table. “But the next time either of you behave that way, whether it’s today or next year, I will take you over my knee and I promise you will be two very sorry little boys! Do I make myself clear?” both boys nodded. Under any other circumstance Greg would have already given them both a spanking to remember, but they were all exhausted, the boys were just about spanked out for now, and he was still unsure what Mycroft was going to uncover. “Right,” Greg sat down on the coffee table in front of the boys, “Locky, stand up.” 

Sherlock reluctantly stood up and Greg pulled down his clothes to bare him bum, he turned him to the side and landed a couple of sharp smacks. Sherlock whined but before he knew it Greg was righting his clothes and running a hand up and down his back.

“Hush, little one, all done, now go and sit down in the kitchen, we’ll be right there.” Sherlock nodded and wondered off towards the kitchen. Greg turned to look at John and crooked a finger, “Come on junior.” John stood up a bit more defiantly than Sherlock and waited as Greg pulled down his clothes, he delivered a couple more smacks to John than he had to Sherlock (since John seemed decidedly older than Lock right now), but just the same he pulled up the boys clothes and soothed him with a hand on his back. “Good boy, John, off you go and join your brother.” John nodded too and walked ahead of Greg into the kitchen.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

Greg followed John into the kitchen and found Sherlock sitting at the table just as he had been told to, resting his head on the table top.

“Good boy Locky, thank you for waiting so nicely.”

Sherlock smiled behind his still present pacifier and John climbed onto his favourite chair as Greg pulled the colouring books off of the shelf.

“Da?”

“Yes John?”

“When Pa back?”

“He’ll be home soon, love.”

“How soon?”

“Quite soon.”

John smacked his palms on the table, frustrated, “Buh ow long is tha?!”

Greg placed the colouring books on the table and walked around to stand behind John’s chair, he reached down and took one of his hands in each of his rubbing circles on his palm with the pad of his thumbs.

“Deep breaths, John.” Greg spoke gently.

“Ngh.” John shook his head angrily and tried to pull his hands out of Greg’s. 

“Okay.” Greg used his grip on John’s hands to lift him up off the seat, enough so that he could slide onto the chair under him and put John down in his lap, then wrapping his arms around him, holding the little ones arms at his side. He kissed John a couple of times on the top of his head before resting his chin there. “Sherlock, love, which book would you like to colour?”

Sherlock pointed to the nearest book to him without ever really taking his eyes off of John.

“Oh that’s a good one, how about you colour a picture for Pa when he gets home?”

Sherlock continued to look at John, brow furrowed in concern.

“Locky? Look at me please.” Sherlock reluctantly looked back at Greg. “How about colouring a picture for Pa, eh?” Sherlock thought about it for a moment, it did sound like a good idea so he nodded and pulled the book towards him, flicking through until he found a picture of some flowers, he held it up to Greg. “Oh that’s perfect! Can you be a big boy for me and get the crayons out of the draw?”

“Ahuh!” Sherlock nodded happily, hopping off his seat and walking to the draw where the crayons were kept, bringing the Tupperware box back and sitting back down.

“Such a good boy, Lock, thank-you.” Sherlock nodded at the praise and started colouring in the flowers for his Pa. “John, would you like to colour?”

“No!” John made another attempt to get off of Greg’s lap but it was clear he was going nowhere.

“Quiet voices, John.” Greg kissed him again and rocked him slightly in his arms. “That’s alright, we don’t have to colour, we can sit here, you and me.”

“Nhh.” John was rigid with pent up frustration and sadness, Greg moved one of his arms ever so slightly so he could gently rub John’s chest.

“It’s alright, John, I’m right here.” Whether the words calmed him or John was just too tired to carry on fighting, Greg wasn’t sure, but he softened and relaxed a little in Greg’s arms. “That’s a good boy. Can you see the lovely picture Lock is colouring? What lovely colours, hm John?”

“Yeh.” It was barely a whisper and his mouth sounded very dry, Greg made a mental note but carried on stroking his hand over John’s heart.

“Yes, such lovely colours. Locky’s an artist, just like your Pa, aren’t you Lock?”

“Yam?” Sherlock looked up at Greg, somehow he already had a large amount of crayon on his forehead but Greg figured now wasn’t the time to mention it.

“Yes you are! You and your Pa draw such lovely pictures.”

“Fankoo.” Sherlock blushed bright pink and looked back down at his colouring.

“And John, you’re good with your hands, aren’t you?”

John didn’t answer.

“You build lovely things with your legos. And you can throw and catch a ball better than any other boy I know. Isn’t that right Lock?”

Sherlock looked up only briefly but nodded, “Ahuh!” and then went back to colouring.

“Mm, that’s right. John, darling, would you like some water?”

“Mm.”

“Okay, here,” Greg loosened his arms, he didn’t think John was in any sort of place to be playing games simply to be let go. Sure enough he didn’t move when Greg released him. “Wrap your arms round my neck, junior.” John nodded meekly and held on as Greg stood up, then let go again once he was sat on the counter top. Greg pulled a sippy-cup from the cupboard and filled it, handing it to a grateful John. “Little sips, bud.” John nodded and drank the water. “Good boy.” Greg rubbed his chest again and noticed little tears in John’s eyes. He moved to stand in front of him, placing a hand on the back of his neck he pulled John forward until his face was buried in his neck and his arms wrapped around his Da. Greg held a hand on the back of his head and stroked his back with the other. “Oh love. It will all be okay, I promise.”

Greg felt a gently pull on his sleeve and peered down without moving John, Sherlock was stood there, teary eyed himself. He pulled Sherlock into his side, rubbing his back too. “I think that’s enough colouring for now, I think it’s time for a cuddle on the sofa.” With that Greg seamlessly lifted John off the counter onto his hip and took Sherlock’s hand walking back into the living room. 

He sat down on the sofa and manoeuvred the boys until they were both curled up against one of his shoulders. He briefly took his hand from around Sherlock to lean down and pull a lever which instantly flicked out the part of the sofa behind his calves, making the sofa into a make-shift bed. “There we are, that’s better.” He leant back, wrapping his arms around both boys. “My sweet, sweet boys.” He turned on the television, finding a relatively harmless documentary on recycling and the three of them just lay their quietly. 

He wasn’t sure how long they had been there, he was fairly sure that neither boy had slept but had instead zoned out watching the colours on the screen and listening to the calming voice of the narrator. He had done exactly the same.

The front door opened quietly and an exhausted, even slightly disheveled looking Mycroft appeared in the door way. Greg couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Mycroft’s tie loose around his neck when it hadn’t been his doing. He shut the door behind him and ran his hand over his face before turning back to the room and taking it all in. He smiled at the sight of the three boys curled up on the sofa just as the boys noticed him. John couldn’t contain himself, almost falling flat on his face as he raced over to him.

“Pa!” Mycroft managed to crouch down a little as John approached so he could hoist him up into his arms when he collided into him.

“Hello darling.” He smiled and gave John a kiss on the cheek. Mycroft looked to Sherlock, a little surprised that he hadn’t jumped up as well but he noticed him sitting up on his knees, holding his arms out at him. Oh. Mycroft carried John over to the sofa and put him down as he lifted up Sherlock. He held Sherlock in his arms as he pulled John’s head to rest against his waist.

“They haven’t eaten yet, we had...a little wobble...I’ll go and make something.” Greg sounded exhausted as he pushed himself up.

“We’ll come with you,” Mycroft managed a warm smile in Greg’s direction, “John, darling, could you hold Da’s hand while we go to the kitchen.”

“Kay, Pa.” John nodded and stumbled over to Greg who took his hand and led him into the kitchen, Mycroft and Sherlock followed.

“Good boy, thank you.”

Greg opened the cupboard, hoping there would be some magical meal waiting there. There wasn’t. But there were a few tins of spaghetti hoops, that would do. He quickly opened the cans and dumped the contents into a large saucepan as Mycroft settled the boys in their seats and sat down on a chair of his own in between them.

“So, how has your day been boys? What have you been up to?”

“Did some ca-la-rin, Pa.” John mumbled and pulled the half coloured picture of Sherlock’s that was still lying in the mess of books of crayons on the table towards Mycroft, “Locky did this fa yew.”

“For me?” Mycroft looked between the two boys, “Oh wow, thank you so much Sherlock, it’s beautiful.” Mycroft stroked Sherlock’s hair and he smiled back. “How long have you had that dummy, eh? Shall we change it for a clean one?” Sherlock shook his head, his curls bouncing as he did. Greg opened the draw and pulled out a green one he handed it to Mycroft with a wink. “Here, look at this lovely green one, Locky.” Sherlock’s eyes settled on the new pacifier and Mycroft was able to gently switch them. Sherlock patted the new one with his palm a few times and smiled from behind it. “Much better.”

“Mm.” Sherlock nodded.

“Yes, right, now when I spoke-” Mycroft was cut off as Sherlock suddenly decided to climb into his lap, “Oh, okay, gently dear, there we go.” Mycroft kissed the top of his head once he was settled, turned to the side to face John. “Right, as I was saying, when I spoke to Da he told me you two were in trouble.” John looked away from Mycroft and down at the table where he started drawing patterns with his fingers, “It’s okay John, you’re not in trouble now, I just wanted to ask you two to say sorry to Da again, while I’m here to hear it, that’s all.” John looked up,

“Sorry, Da” Greg turned around, two small plastic bowls of tinned spaghetti in hand, he smiled softly at John.

“Thank you John,”

Sherlock patted the pacifier in his mouth a couple of times, making Greg chuckle,

“And thank you Sherlock. Well you’ve both had your time-out, and your bum got a couple of smacks didn’t it John?”

“A-huh.” John nodded.

“Well, then it’s all done, isn’t it Da, our John doesn’t have to worry about that anymore does he?” Mycroft asked.

“Absolutely not, here John love, eat up.” Greg put the bowl down in front of him and placed the other in front of Mycroft since he would be feeding Sherlock, before sitting down on the other side of John and rubbing his back. “You got a bit upset earlier, didn’t you John?” John nodded again.

“Oh dear, do you feel a bit better now?”

“Bih.”

“Well, once you’ve eaten some of this yummy food your Da has made for you, we’re going to give you a bath-” Bath? Greg looked out of the window, at some point it had gotten dark. “Then we’ll tuck you into bed and we’ll all have a nice sleep.”

“I yaw room?” John asked quietly, looking between his dads. 

“Yes, in our room if you’d like, John.”

“Peas.”

“Of course, love.” Greg squeezed John’s knee, he noticed he hadn’t eaten anything so he picked up the bowl, deciding to feed him. “Open up.” John did as he was told. Sherlock on the other hand almost threw a fit when Mycroft tried to take the pacifier from his mouth.

“Lock, you are going to eat a least a little bit of dinner, now open up please.”

“Nnh.” Sherlock shook his head.

“Oh yes, little boy, unless your asking for another smacked bottom?”

“Nnh.” Sherlock shook his head even harder.

“No I didn’t think so, so give me your dummy and open up please.” Sherlock relented, only eating a few mouthfuls but it was enough to satisfy Mycroft. “Right, I think it’s bath time for you two, Locky you seem to have-” Mycroft licked his finger to taste whatever it was on his forehead, “crayon, on your face.” Sherlock and John both giggled. “Such cheeky little boys I bet you’ve run your Da ragged!” Mycroft stood up with Sherlock on his hip, he wiggled his fingers at John, “Come on poppet, bath time.” John happily took Mycroft’s hand, “And you too Gregory,”

“I’ll just-” Greg indicated the mess on the table,

“Oh no, bath time right now mister, unless you’re also asking for a smacked bottom?”

“No!” Greg shook his head in an uncanny impression of Sherlock,

“No indeed! Well come on then.” Mycroft led the way. His husband was tired, he was tired, his boys were tired, the bloody mess could wait.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short one with a couple of longer ones to follow soon. 
> 
> I really hope you guys are enjoying this story so far!
> 
> Thanks for being amazing!

Mycroft walked into the bathroom with Sherlock still on his hip and John still holding his hand. He approached the tub and let go of John’s hand so he could lean down and turn on the water. John started to try and take his t-shirt off but immediately got his arms stuck. Frustrated, he stomped a foot and made a growling sound.

“Wait for Da to get you undressed please, John.” Mycroft was holding his free hand under the tap to check the water temperature.

“Grrrr.” John thrashed about trying to free his arms.

“I’m here, I’m here.” Greg caught up with the others and walked over to John. “Here, let me help.” John went limp and threw his head back, looking up at Greg. “I have the same problem all the time, it’s our muscular arms John.” John smiled and nodded slightly.

Once he was sure that the water was running at the right temperature Mycroft turned around and tried to put Sherlock down, he, however, had no interest in standing on his own.

“Right, Lock, are you going to stand up for me while I get you undressed?”

Sherlock shook his head, no.

“Come on little one, feet down please.”

Sherlock shook his head even harder this time, Mycroft sighed and swatted his bum, Sherlock’s feet dropped instantly.

“All done,” Greg folded up the last of John’s clothes and lifted him up putting him down in the tub. “There we go, hows the water?”

“Good.” John whispered and Greg knelt down next to the tub and stroked his hair out of his face.

Sherlock started fussing the second Mycroft started removing his clothes, “Stop fussing.” Sherlock shook his head and fidgeted as much as he could, making it almost impossible for Mycroft to undress him. “I said, stop fussing.” He landed another swat on Sherlock’s bum and he let out a little yelp, but stilled. “There we go, that’s better, thank you.” Once he was still Mycroft took off Sherlocks’ clothes and lifted him into the bath opposite John.

“Head back please John.”

“Noooo.” 

“Oh come on, its no so bad and I can massage your head for you while I do it.”

“Noooooooo.”

“John, that’s enough, do as you’re told please.”

“Myc, it’s okay.” Greg stroked Mycroft’s arm lovingly, then turned back to John, “John, I promise I wont get any soap in your eyes.”

“Pomise?”

“I promise.”

“Kay.”

“That’s my brave boy, right, head back.” John took a deep breath as if he was readying himself for battle and titled his head back. Greg gently poured some water over his hair, very careful to avoid getting his boy’s face wet at all.

“Right, Lock, I’m sure you’re going to be a brave boy too.” Mycroft picked up a plastic mug and looked at Sherlock, he could see that little glint in his eye, the same one he had seen before their ill fated walk in the woods. “Now Sherlock, I am warning you, everyone has had a very difficult day. It is time for a bath and then bed, for all of us. If you throw a tantrum this evening, I will take you downstairs to my study and I will spank your bum. Do you hear me? Because this is your one and only warning little man.” 

Sherlock’s eyes went wide for a moment, he was too young at the moment to make any silly plans to misbehave as he had earlier. Really he was too young to take in half of what Mycroft had said. All he knew was that he was tired and really didn’t want any more smacks on his bottom, so he tilted his head back and Mycroft sighed.

“Such a good boy, thank you.”

Greg and Mycroft went about washing the boys hair. They made sure to use as little water as possible to avoid any accidental drops onto the boy’s faces and both made sure to massage their sons heads for as long as possible. Eventually the boys hair was washed and they were practically purring.

“Now,” Mycroft pushed himself up and walked over to the shower in the corner of the room, turning the water on but not bothering with temperature, allowing it to run cold. “You two be good for your Da for just a minute.” Mycroft quickly undressed and left Greg watching the two sleepy boys as he quickly showered. He was sure that the boys wouldn’t give them a chance to slip away and wash up later and he wanted the stink of the damn day off his body. It was a quick shower for Mycroft, and once he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist he realised he hadn’t collected any pyjamas for any of them. Greg seemed to read his mind,

“It’s fine love, you watch these two, I’ll jump in and we can all wrap up in towels until we get into the bedroom.” Greg didn’t add that the sight of Mycroft watching the boys dressed in nothing but a towel made his heart melt. He seemed so vulnerable and fatherly and it was wonderful.

“Right, of course, in you get dear.” Mycroft swapped places with Greg who quickly undressed and jumped in the shower, “Jesus, Myc!” he jumped out and pointedly turned on the hot tap, “You could have warned me.”

“You’re a detective, Gregory, I thought you’d ‘detect’ it.” Mycroft smirked at his husband who gave him a look that made him very glad the boys would be sharing their bed tonight. As Greg showered Mycroft sat alongside the boys in the bath, they were both now asleep and he stroked the hair off of their faces. Greg stepped out of the shower and towelled off his hair, catching Mycroft biting his lip at the sight.

“Glad you married me?” Greg asked,

“You’ve no idea.” Mycroft stood up and looked down at the boys, “But I hope those muscles aren’t just for show, we’ve got to get these two into bed somehow.”

“Just for show?! Mycroft Holmes what do you take me for?” With that Greg leant down and lifted Sherlock from the tub, (making no noise to indicate the muscle spasm it triggered in his lower back) and held him on his hip.

“Oh you-”

“Language, Myc.” Greg pre-empted his husbands swearing fit and cocked an eyebrow at him as he handed Sherlock over before reaching down and lifting out John with the same (seeming) ease. “Let’s go.”

Once the boys were laid down on the bed, Mycroft pulled on the same silk pyjamas that he had worn the night before and Greg decided on a pair of boxers. Mycroft smirked at him,

“Oh don’t act like you don’t like it.” Greg responded, as he pulled two pairs of baby blue cotton pyjamas from the draw. When he looked down at the boys ready to dress them he saw that John’s eyes were open and he was taking in the room. “There you are John, lets get you in some warm pyjamas eh?”

John didn’t say anything but just nodded his head and his thumb made its way to his mouth. Greg gave Mycroft a pointed look and drew his attention to the thumb now in John’s mouth. With a very slight sigh Mycroft pulled open the bottom drawer under their wardrobe and took out two nappies and two clean pacifiers, handing one of each to Greg. Once they were both dressed for bed the two dad’s manoeuvred them into the middle of the bed and settled in on either side of them before reaching for the phones that were sat on the table next to them, each typing quickly.

‘I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what went on at the office?’

‘No, not just yet, lets get these two properly settled. We’ll talk when we get a chance. I don’t want them to hear anything and it’s all too much to sort out this way.’ Mycroft held up his phone and Greg nodded.

With that they managed a small smile at each other before putting down their phones and turning off the lights next to them.


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's another little update for you wonderful people.
> 
> As you'll see things are a tad different in this one, and the next chapter or two should follow this little bit of the story.
> 
> I really hope you like it! Although it's short this one was a lot of fun to write!

Greg woke up suddenly, unsure what it was that had woken him. He felt a warm bundle in his arms and looked down to see John clinging to him, at some point in the night the pacifier had fallen from his mouth and he had replaced it with his thumb. Both boys looked so peaceful when they slept and Greg gave himself a moment to take it all in. Glancing over to Mycroft he saw that the other half of the bed was empty, no Mycroft, no Sherlock-

“Sherlock Holmes!” he heard Mycroft bellow from downstairs, ah, so that had been what had woken him. Next to him John stirred and opened his eyes.

“It’s alright love, I’m here.” John peered up at Greg and smiled behind his thumb, resting his head down on his Da’s chest. “Oh is someone cuddly this morning, hm?” John giggled and nodded against Greg’s chest before Greg pushed himself up into a sitting position, shushing a fussing John as he did. Greg opened the drawer in the bedside table and took out a clean pacifier, gently replacing John’s thumb with it. John’s eyes briefly went cross-eyed as he focused on the dummy bobbing between his lips, he smiled at Greg. “Much better, eh? Right,” Greg stood up and John instantly threw his arms up at him, “Yes, yes, monkey I’ll pick you up, but first I need to change that nappy of yours.” 

John looked down at the nappy he was wearing then back at Greg, he wrinkled his nose and nodded before throwing himself back onto the bed, giggling when he bounced on the mattress. The very second Greg had finished changing him, John sat up and stretched his hands out.

“Alright, you’re my little koala bear today, mm?” John nodded happily. Greg stretched, his bones and muscles screaming at him to not lift the bloody child up again! But he wouldn’t listen to that, hoisting John up onto his hip. John clung on to him and hid his face in Greg’s neck.

Greg carried John down the stairs and as they reached the bottom he saw Mycroft standing over the sofa, his hands on his hips and Sherlock lying stretched out on the sofa, television blaring.

“Last chance, William, turn it off, now!”

“Don’t wanna. And why do you have so many stupid rules about the telly, I can watch what I want when I want, the rest of the world does!”

“We are not the rest of the world young man! Off, now!”

“Ugh!” Sherlock picked up the remote and glared at Mycroft as he pressed the off button before dropping the remote to the floor, “Happy?!”

Greg had heard enough, he snapped the fingers on his free hand and pointed at Sherlock, “Eh! You do not talk to your Pa that way, son!”

“Urrrr!” Sherlock threw his head back dramatically and kicked his heels against the sofa, Greg rolled his eyes and handed John over to Mycroft who started to make his way into the kitchen, running a palm over his face. “If you want to start your day with a strapping, you’re going about it the right way lad.” Greg walked over and flipped Sherlock onto his stomach with ease, landing one loud smack on his now upturned bum, Sherlock yelped and quickly moved to cover his arse with his hands, “Kitchen, now, you’re going to help me make breakfast.”

“Do I have to?” Sherlock mumbled his face pressed into the cushions.

“Yep!” Greg moved Sherlock’s hands out of the way and landed another smack.

Sherlock reluctantly pushed himself up and started to make his way to the kitchen. Greg walked back towards the stairs and stopped, turning back to look at Sherlock. “I’m going to get dressed, I’ll be two minutes, sit at the table nicely until I’m back.” Greg pointed a finger at his eldest, “And you watch your lip, I’ll be wearing my belt when I come down.”

Sherlock ruffled his hair and let out a little sigh before facing Greg, “Yes, Da.”

“Good lad. Go on.” Greg nodded towards the kitchen and started the climb the stairs.

Sherlock shuffled into the kitchen, “Da’s getting dressed.” he mumbled and sat down in the chair next to John, “Baby brother,” he whispered landing a kiss on the top of John’s head, John beamed.

Mycroft placed two mugs of coffee on the table and looked at Sherlock, “Would you like some orange juice, Lock?”

“Can I have coffee?”

“Absolutely not, orange juice or water.”

“What is this, a prison camp?” Sherlock grumbled mostly to the table, Mycroft took his chin in his hand and tilting his head to face him.

“Oh, I can make it one very quickly, my boy.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow in warning.

“Juice please.”

“Of course.” Mycroft rubbed Sherlock’s back a couple of times and went to pour him some juice.

Sherlock turned his attention to John, “What do you want for breakfast baby brother?” John looked at Sherlock wide eyed, “Spinach?” John pulled a face and shook his head, “Broccoli?” John shook his head again, “Mmm, frogs?” John started giggling and Mycroft smiled to himself as he poured Sherlock a drink, “Snails?” John kept giggling and shook his head even harder. Mycroft put down Sherlock’s glass of juice and Sherlock looked up at him, “I guess John doesn’t want any breakfast, Pa.”

“Oh, doesn’t he?” Mycroft looked between the two boys with mock surprise.

“Nope. Oh wait, how about-” Sherlock reached over to John, “Puppy dog tails?” He started to tickle his little brother and John threw back his head laughing, losing his pacifier in the process but he was too busy laughing to notice. The second Sherlock stopped tickling John, John started the ungainly process of climbing onto his big brother’s lap, sighing as Sherlock wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock let out his own little sigh as Mycroft rubbed his back again, before trying to brush his hair with his fingers. “Pa!”

“Well, it needs a brush.” Mycroft planted a noisy kiss on Sherlock’s head.

Greg walked into the kitchen fully dressed, he’d left his belt until last and buckled it up, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock.

“Is he behaving himself?” Greg asked his husband.

“Yes he is.” Mycroft sat down at the table and rested his elbows on top of it as he started to drink his coffee.

“That’s my boy.” Greg walked over and kissed Sherlock on the top of his head as Mycroft had just done before doing to same to John. He noticed John patting his empty mouth with his palm and wordlessly pulled a clean pacifier from his top pocket, slipping it between the boys lips. He stopped for a moment and ruffled Sherlock’s hair for him, it flicked up and curled in all the spots that Mycroft had just smoothed down, Sherlock grinned.

“Gregory!”

“Oh you’re just jealous, you wish you had unmanageable locks.”

“And you don’t? I’m not the only one that’s thinning on top you know.” Mycroft smirked at Greg.

“Right,” Gregory put down the loaf of bread he had just picked up, feigning outrage. “I knew I was going to have to spank a Holmes this morning,” Greg moved his hands to his belt buckle and took a step towards Mycroft who threw his hands up in surrender. Greg rolled his eyes and turned back to start making breakfast, “Thinning on top,” he mumbled to himself, “I’ll give you thinning on top.” Greg sneaked a look over his shoulder just in time to see Mycroft wink at Sherlock, he turned back to the breakfast in front of him with a smile.

“Can I feed John-John his breakfast, Pa?” Sherlock asked Mycroft.

“You can, if you’re gentle.” Mycroft stood to get a jar of baby food from the fridge,

“Oh, I was going to feed him with the electric whisk.” Mycroft eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, before he could act on it, Greg spun around and clipped Sherlock on the back of the head,

“Don’t be cheeky.” Sherlock ruffled the hair on his head where his Da had just smacked him and poked his tongue out at John who giggled. Mycroft rolled his eyes and put a jar of food on the table with a small plastic spoon. 

“What are we having for breakfast, Da?”

“Bread and jam.” Greg licked some jam from his thumb and put a large plate piled high with just that, on the table.

“Bread and jam?” Sherlock asked incredulously, “I didn’t realise rations were back on.” Mycroft chuckled to himself and shook his head, the boy just couldn’t help himself. Greg put his hands on the back of Sherlock’s chair and glared down at him. Sherlock slowly tilted his head back so he could look up at the man casting a shadow over him, he winced in anticipation.

“You’re just asking for a smacking this morning my boy, watch, your, lip.” Greg gave him a look that made it very clear this was Sherlock’s last warning.

“Yes sir.” Sherlock nodded and went back to feeding John, when he thought Greg was out of earshot he leant in and whispered in his brother’s ear, “That was close.” John nodded wide-eyed at his big brother. Greg, however, was not out of earshot and looked over at his husband with a warm smile.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

Mycroft, Greg, Sherlock and little John were all sat at the table. Greg finishing his second plate of breakfast and Mycroft inhaling the scent of his coffee as Sherlock gently finished feeding John.

“Lock, as good a job as you are doing there, you need to eat some breakfast too, please.” Mycroft hadn’t taken his eyes off the two boys the whole time Sherlock was feeding his brother.

“M’not that hungry,” Sherlock shrugged before turning all of his attention back to John.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry, I told you to eat something.” Mycroft corrected him.

“All done John,” Sherlock put down the empty jar on the table and grinned at his brother. “Well done!”he kissed him on the forehead, “Good job.” John nodded in agreement and turned on his brother’s lap so he could curl up against him.

“Sherlock.” Mycroft raised an eyebrow,

“Aren’t you gunna say well done to John, he ate the whole jar, didn’t you baby brother?” Sherlock kissed John’s hair. 

“Of course,” Mycroft nodded and turned his attention to John, instantly lightening his tone, “Well done little one.”

“Yeah, well done John, good job buddy.” Greg smiled and reached over to rub his youngest son’s back and John mumbled in agreement before closing his eyes as he leaned into Sherlock. 

“Right, now hand John to your Da and eat some breakfast please.” Mycroft was now resting his chin on his palm and looking at Sherlock expectantly.

“No! He wants to stay with me.” Sherlock tightened his arms around John, though not nearly enough to hurt him. 

Greg sighed and reached out for John, “I’m sure he does Lock, but just for a moment, hand him over while you eat.”

“No! It’s me he wants not you or Pa!”

“Okay,” Greg stood up and started to take John out of Sherlock’s arms knowing that he wouldn’t fight him on it incase it hurt his little brother. Sherlock reluctantly relinquished his hold and Greg pulled John onto his hip, “You can cuddle with your brother all day Lock, just eat some breakfast please.” John reached out his arms to Sherlock who spun round to glare at Mycroft,

“See! He wants me!”

“Gregory,” Mycroft gave Greg a pointed look but his husband was already on the same train of thought, shushing John and carrying him out of the room. Sherlock jumped to his feet to follow them, “Not another step, young man.” Mycroft spoke quietly but it was enough to halt his eldest, Sherlock spun where he stood not willing to risk another step and stamped his foot.

“But-”

“No buts! Except the one you are about to sit on,” Mycroft nodded at the chair Sherlock had just vacated. (“And one that is dangerously close to going over my knee,” he added silently to himself.) With an overly dramatic sigh Sherlock slumped back into the chair before glaring back at Mycroft. 

“Now what?!” 

Mycroft was just about ready to smack Sherlock for his attitude but was willing to let that one slip if he could just get the boy to eat something, “Now,” Mycroft sighed, trying to calm himself, “Now, you are going to eat some breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry!” Sherlock shoved the empty plate in front of him across the table and Mycroft pushed himself up, leaning over the table.

“That is quite enough.” He picked up the plate Sherlock had just discarded and placed a slice of bread and jam onto it, he rounded the table and sat in the chair next to Sherlock, putting the plate in front of him. “Now,” He rested a hand on Sherlock’s back, gently running it up and down, “You and me are going to sit here until that is all gone.” 

“What, are you gunna eat it for me?”

“Sherlock.” Mycroft stilled the hand on his back.

“But I don’t want to!”

“I know,” Mycroft pushed the wild hair from Sherlock’s face, smoothing it back and giving him a gentle smile, “I know love, but you need to eat something. Once you’ve eaten that you can go and play with your little brother.” Mycroft saw the light suddenly fire up behind Sherlock’s eye’s and moved the plate out of his reach just in time to stop him flinging it across the room. With another steadying breath Mycroft stood up, putting the plate on the kitchen counter. “Right, I think you had better put your nose in that corner,” Mycroft pointed to the corner by the back door, “while I tidy up. Then when you are calm, we’ll try again.” 

“I’m too old for a time out!” Sherlock muttered before dropping his head onto the table. 

“You most certainly are not, young man. Corner. Now.”

“It’s not fair! Just because you love food so much doesn’t mean the rest of us have to!”

Mycroft sighed heavily, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms across his chest.

“I’m not asking you to ‘love’ food, Sherlock, I am asking – no – I am telling you, to eat one slice of bread so you don’t waste away. Now, either eat your breakfast calmly, or go and stand in that corner.”

“Fine!” Sherlock threw his head back.

“Fine? Fine what, Sherlock? Fine you will sit nicely with me and eat your breakfast or fine, you will go and stand in the corner?”

“You’re not gunna let this go, are you?”

“Getting you to eat something? Absolutely not.”

“Then fine! Fine, I’ll eat something. God!”

“Right.” Mycroft stepped towards Sherlock and span his chair around so he was facing him. “Sherlock, you’re attitude this morning has been appalling. If your Da had heard the way you’ve been speaking to me he would have already hauled you across his knee, and I am sorely tempted to do just that myself. Now,” Mycroft took a firm hold of Sherlock’s ear and pulled him to his feet, dragging him over to the corner. 

“Oww, ow ow!”

“Oh I’ll give you ow.” Mycroft positioned Sherlock on the corner and stepped back.

“You are going to stand there while I clean up, then you are going to sit down and eat something-”

“But I already said I’d eat!” Mycroft thought for just a moment that he was being too hard on Sherlock, food was always a difficult subject when he was this age. He remembered him very clearly the first time he went through this stage. He found it complex and worrying enough the first time round and he was fairly certain he hadn’t handled it any better since Sherlock had been regressing to this age. He sighed, running a hand over his face and worrying about what a useless dad he could be, when “What are you going deaf?” Sherlock mumbled in little more than a whisper. Oh that did it.

Mycroft landed a three hard smacks on Sherlock’s backside and stepped away to clean up. “Don’t move an inch, William. I’ll deal with you and that attitude of yours when I’m finished.”


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Greg carried a tired John up the stairs, leaving Mycroft to deal with Sherlock. He still wasn’t entirely sure what was going on but whatever it was had thrown the boys ages off. He didn’t often get to spend time with John while he was this small. He loved it when either of the boys slipped so small, they were so vulnerable, vulnerable in a way that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson almost never were.

“I think your brother is a bit grumpy this morning, eh John-John?” John shook his head, buried in the crook of Greg’s neck. “No, no he’s not grumpy with you, but then who could be?” Greg pushed open the door to his and Mycroft’s room and walked in, sitting John down on the bed. 

“I think we’d better get you dressed for the day.” John nodded and smiled. “Is that a good idea? You think your Da had a good idea?” John nodded more enthusiastically and Greg beamed back at him, “Yeah.” Greg planted a kiss on John’s forehead. “Right, you lie back for me while I get your clothes ready, don’t want you falling off the bed now do we?” John shook his head hard, he did not want to fall off the bed, that sounded like a terrible idea! “No indeed!” Greg gently tilted John back until he was lying down, peering up at him. 

Greg knelt on the bed next to him and looked down at John at his youngest. “Mm, sometimes I wish you were like this all the time. I wouldn’t have to worry so much now would I?” John blinked up at him, “But I do wish I could take a look around inside that head of yours, find out what’s going on.” Greg sighed and moved away to find some clothes,

“Do?”

“Hm?” Greg spun around to look at John who was now sitting up, rubbing his eyes with his balled up fists as though had just woken up from a nap. “Yes I do.” Greg nodded, giving John a gentle smile. 

John knocked one of his fists lightly against his head, as though he was knocking at a door, “In my ‘ed?”

“Yes, silly boy, a look inside your head.”

John rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, thinking. Then he looked back at Greg with a firm nod, “Kay, Da.” Greg could tell that John had no idea what was going on, but he couldn’t help but smile at his attempt. He could also tell that he might just be a year or two older than he had been a moment ago, this might be his last chance for a while.

“John,” Greg moved back to the bed, sitting down on top of it and moving John gently so their knees were touching. “John, do you think I could ask you to do something very grown up for me?”

“Kay.” John nodded.

“No, sweetheart, I need you to listen to Da very closely, okay? And if you don’t want to do what I’m asking, all you have to do is say no, I will not be cross if you say no. Do you understand?” Greg had a horrible feeling that this might just be a bad idea, but the last few days had been so bloody confusing. Everyone was on edge, he couldn’t get his husband alone to explain and even if he did he doubted that Mycroft would tell him what was going on. There was something going on that he didn’t understand and frankly he wasn’t too fucking happy about that. 

He shook that angry, sad, confused feeling that was fogging his head for a moment and looked back at John. “John, do you think you could age up a bit for me?” It was a question Greg hadn’t asked of either of the boys for quite a long time. They had been so set in their ways as a family unit that it really hadn’t been necessary. He saw John’s eyes widen and it made his heart ache. “Just for a moment, love, I would like to talk to big John for a minute, then you can come right back.” He could see a flicker of understanding in John’s eyes, he put a hand on the back of John’s neck and gently pulled him forward until their forehead’s were pressed together. “Then I need you to come right back.” He whispered. 

John moved forwards and curled up in Greg’s lap and he wrapped his arms around him. He seemed impossibly small in that moment. He held him tightly and rocked him, “I know it’s so much to ask, love. It’s too much to ask. It’s okay.”

Greg wasn’t sure how long they had been wrapped up together like that. It felt like it had just been a minute or two, but the light outside had changed. He didn’t feel much like moving, but then he felt John move against him. “John?” John grumbled in response as he sat up, “John, are you alright love?” John shifted a little, moving back so he was sat facing Greg again, with his knees against Greg’s, he went to pull down his sleeves over his hands (something Greg had noticed grown up John doing when he was nervous and thought no one was looking), but he had nothing to pull over them. “One second, love.” Greg climbed up off the bed and went to the wardrobe returning with one of his own jumpers. He wordlessly pulled it over John’s head and let him settle his own arms into the sleeves before sitting back in front of him. Greg’s jumper was big on John so he was easily able to wrap his hands up in the cuffs. “Better?” Greg moved his head down, trying to get John to look at him, finally he peered up through his eyelashes.

“Yeah, thanks.” his voice was a little croaky, as though he hadn’t used it for a while.

“Are you alright mate?” Greg put a hand on John’s knee, squeezing it. ‘Mate’ was his most commonly used term of affection when John and Sherlock were their normal age, but in that moment it didn’t seem any way near adequate. He squeezed John’s knee a second time, hoping that it would explain all of that for him.

“Think so.” John ruffled his hair, never revealing his hands from the sleeves of the jumper.

“I’m sorry I asked you to do this.” Greg was regretting it already, but he needed answers.

“S’okay.” John nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap, “There’s a lot going on.” 

“There is.” Greg nodded, “I just need to understand John, I can’t care for you and Lock properly, or as well as I should, if I don’t understand what’s going on.”

“S’okay, just, one thing-”

“Anything.”

“Can I get this fucking thing off me.” John nodded down at the nappy he was wearing, “It feels so wrong when I’m grown.” Greg chuckled,

“Of course mate.” Greg stood up and pulled a pair of his own pyjama bottoms from the chest of drawers, throwing them at John who smiled fondly (if still not a little confused and drowsily) back at him. “Get changed in the en-suite, throw that in the nappy bin with the others.” John wandered into the bathroom, still a little unsure on his feet having not walked for a little while. 

When he came out he stood in the doorway of the bathroom looking at Greg. “If you want me to be grown up, it would help if you stopped putting me in clothes that made me feel so fucking small!” Greg threw his head back in a laugh looking at John stood in clothes that were several sizes too big.

“Sorry mate, I can’t help my Thor-like frame.”

“Thor, is it? Not all the fucking pies you eat then?”

“Oi!” Greg clipped John round the ear, hard but still fondly as he walked past, before settling back on the bed. “And watch your language, if Mycroft hears that, grown or not, we’ll both get a hiding.”

John smiled fondly as he sat down, rubbing the spot on his head that Greg had just slapped. “So, you wanted to talk?”

“No, John, I need you to talk. I need answers. This is getting out of hand and I don’t know what to do.”

John sighed, the light hearted smile that was on his face, faltered. “I know.” He nodded to the bed in front of him and Greg sat down, never taking his eyes from John. “Let’s talk.”


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

Greg and John adjusted themselves until they were both sat cross legged facing each other on the bed. John ran his hands through his hair trying to slick it back or slick it down he wasn’t sure.

“So, what’s going on?” Greg was trying his best to brace himself for what was coming, whilst trying to sound as though he wasn’t fazed at all. “Ever since you got here there’s been something wrong. I know that this case had some triggers for you-“

“Triggers?” John’s head snapped up.

“Yeah.”

“What do you mean, ‘triggers’” John asked with a squint.

“You know, the things that Mycroft makes me keep an eye on, anything that might upset you or Sherlock on a case. What, doesn’t he call them ‘triggers’ with you two?”

“He doesn’t call them anything, I didn’t know he was doing that. How long has he been doing that?” John tried to keep his voice even, he wasn’t sure if that made him angry or made him love Mycroft even more. Either way he was feeling on edge and even more emotional vulnerable than he had been a half an hour before.

“Well since I first started working with Sherlock.” Greg couldn’t believe that John wasn’t aware of Mycroft’s ‘Trigger List’, it was something he and Mycroft spoke about on an almost daily basis. It was just one of those things.

“I should have known.” John sighed and rubbed his face with his palm, hoping to pass off some of the liquid collecting in his eyes as sweat.

“He’s always looked out for you.”

“Looked out?!” John’s eyes were wide, he was shaky, he could feel anger just under the surface, Greg put his hand on his knee, just for a second, but it worked. John let out a long breath and Greg’s hand was gone. “You could call it that I suppose. So, what are my ‘triggers’” John added the air quotes with his fingers and looked at Greg expectantly. Greg tilted his head a little and gave John a look. John breathed in again, shook his hands loose and let out a long breath, with a small smile he breathed out, “Calm.” Greg nodded and smiled back at him.

“Okay.” Greg paused, “But if I tell you this, will you tell me what it is that has thrown you and Sherlock through a loop?”

“Deal.” John instantly held out his hand for Greg to shake, the older man reluctantly took it with a sigh.

“Addiction, lousy parents, parental abandonment, suicide, anything involving the military and”, Greg rattled the list of triggers off as fast as possible, as if he could make them less painful the less time he took to count them off. He saved the worst for last and took a long, deep breath, “the death of a partner.” He sighed and let the words hang in the room, he could see John taking it all in, as though he was registering each word individually and mentally ticking it off. (‘Addiction? Yep, that riles me up, tick. Suicide, yep, tick.’)

“Is that all of them?” John asked quietly, his eyes focused on his feet.

“No, it’s a long list that goes into quiet, well, ‘Mycroftian’ detail, I have the full list saved on my phone, I can show you later.”

“Mycroftian.” John let out a little laugh, not looking up at Greg.

“Mm, Myc didn’t want either of you working with anyone in the television industry for a while. There was a case that involved someone who had once worked for a week as an assistant Grip on an episode of Masterchef. He tore me a new one when he found it in my Sherlock and John pile.”

“Really?” John laughed again, still not looking up.

“Yep.” John managed a little look up towards Greg but settled his eyes back down again.

“So, you thought I was a bit off because this case involved some of my triggers?”

“Yeah, but then the two of you were getting more and more volatile so Mycroft…“

“Mycroft what?” John’s head snapped back up and he was glaring directly at Greg, his eyes a little wide with worry.

“He looked into it, and he hasn’t told me what’s going on.”

“Mycroft knows?”

“Yes, I’m assuming he does. Hasn’t found the time to tell me though. Now, are you going to tell me?” John squeezed his eyes shut and looked down yet again.

“It’s bad, Greg.” He all but whispered. Greg leaned in instantly, holding onto John’s knee again but this time not letting go.

“Fuck, how bad? Wait, no don’t answer that, just tell me what it is.”

John took another long steadying breath, there was a small part of him, somewhere around his heart that desperately wanted to hold onto Greg’s hand. He didn’t want to allow himself that comfort though, and besides, he wasn’t sure he had ever held Greg’s hand as an adult.

“They know.” John murmured.

“Who does? And what do they know?” Greg leaned forwards, trying to make eye contact with John. When this failed he reached forward with his free hand and gently tilted John’s head up to look at him. John sniffed away a tear hoping Greg hadn’t seen. 

He didn’t know how to tell Greg; he and Sherlock had planned to make sure that neither Greg or Mycroft ever found out. Neither of them had been quite sure on how to do this. But Sherlock had sworn that they would. Sworn that their ‘big brothers’ and father figures would never find out how much the two of them had let them all down. He had believed Sherlock when he had told him they could come away to cottage, told him that there was no way Greg or Mycroft would find out during their stay. They could let off some steam, spend some time with their family and then go back to Baker Street and sort this whole mess out. But of course, Mycroft had found out. Of course, he hadn’t told Greg, he would be so hurt and scared and most of all disappointed in John and Sherlock. Now he had to tell Greg all about it, about how he and Sherlock had somehow slipped up and let the fucking cat out of the fucking bag. Maybe this was the last time they would ever all be together at the cottage. Tears were falling from his eyes now and he had no way of stopping them.

“We don’t know who. But they know about us.”

“What about us?” Greg was fighting a losing battle in getting John to look at him.

“All of it.”

“All of what John? For fuck sake!” Greg sighed, he hadn’t meant for that to come out that way, “Sorry, John, I just need to know what’s going on.” He squeezed John’s knee again. John rubbed his nose on the back of his hand and looked back at Greg, before he knew what was happening he was shouting, shouting out everything that was running around in his head.

“They know about us, about this about how you and Mycroft are our dad’s and how we get young and how fucked up we all are! They know! They have evidence! Photograph’s and phone records and they’ll destroy us!” John stopped bellowing and the room was suddenly deafeningly quiet. The information hung in the air and John waited for Greg to break down and cry, just as he had done when he first saw the photos. 

Before Greg had a chance to do any of the things that John was expecting, there was noise from outside the room and the door swung open revealing Mycroft and Sherlock. John startled, shaken by the whole experience of the revelation. Greg sighed and looked at his husband.

“Mycroft knows.” Sherlock mumbled in John’s direction, not really looking up from his feet.

“I know, Greg told me.” John’s eyes settled on Mycroft, “Do you know who it is?”

“No, not yet, but we will find out. We will stop them, John, I promise.” John nodded solemnly and managed a weak smile.

“I’m sorry.” John croaked.

“Me too!” Sherlock added, sounding more sincere than John thought he’d ever heard Sherlock before.

“Sorry? You two have nothing to be sorry about this is not your doing.” Mycroft sighed, John looked up in time to see Mycroft wrap an arm around Sherlock. He beckoned John over with his other hand and John almost literally jumped at the chance of a hug. He hurried to his feet and was quickly wrapped up in Mycroft’s arms along with his best friend and brother.

“I thought it was us.” Sherlock mumbled.

“You? You two? No dear boys, this is not the doing of any of us. And even if it were your ‘fault’ as they say, it would still be alright. No, I’m not sure whose doing this is, but I will find out.” Mycroft strained his neck to kiss each man on the head. Despite the two of them being so abruptly pulled back to something close to their physical age, they were willing to accept the affection.

Suddenly the room was full of sound again and Mycroft, John and Sherlock all turned, startled, towards the source. Greg had rolled back on the bed and was roaring with laughter. They exchanged concerned glances before looking back at Greg.

“My god!” Greg sat back up, laying a hand on his chest and trying to catch his breath, “Oh, my god you’re serious!” 

“Gregory, are you alright?” Mycroft furrowed his brow as he looked over his husband.

“I’m fine, absolutely fine.” Greg wheezed. “Oh, thank god, you melodramatic arseholes! That’s why these two have been flying about like boomerangs?! Because someone is blackmailing us? Jesus Fucking Christ!”

Mycroft’s concerned expression was fast becoming one of frustration, “That is precisely why, Gregory. Our livelihoods, our careers our reputations, everything, it’s all on the line.”

“How can this possibly be so concerning to the three of you, Sherlock Holmes literally got away with murder and some weirdo with a long lens camera has got you shaking in your boots?!”

“Information is power, Greg!” Sherlock was exasperated, he didn’t seem to be understanding, but trying his best to appear self-assured and superior despite the fact he was still clinging onto his big brother.

“I know that, but just what about this information is so bloody powerful? It’s not as though Myc has leaked the nuclear codes is it?” Greg wiped a couple of stray tears from his face, tears of relief he assumed, he wasn’t quite sure where they had come from. Then he heard the words he had just spoken over again in his head.

The room fell silent. It was easy to forget that the man they loved was responsible for such dangerous information. It was best to try and forget that. Mycroft could almost see the three of them simultaneously physically shake that thought from their minds.

“But people know, people know about us.” John tried to get them back on track, still unsure as to why Greg wasn’t appalled by this information. The fact that someone knew about them, about their lives had been eating him up inside. He had been physically sick at the thought more than once and he was fairly sure Sherlock had too.

“What if they do? This information can’t hurt anyone. This is all okay.” Greg let out a long sigh and threw himself back onto the bed again, bouncing a little as he did, “You have no idea how relieved I am.”

“Relieved? How can you possibly be relieved Gregory?” Mycroft wordlessly squeezed John and Sherlock again to remind them that none of this was their fault, but that he was still bloody pissed off at his husband’s nonchalance towards the whole situation.

“How can I be relieved. I’ll tell you how. Until five minutes ago my brain was preparing for the worst news it could invent. And bearing in mind the fact that I love the three of you, my brain was inventing some pretty horrifying scenarios. Now I know that there is nothing to worry about. At its worst, people might find out something about me that they don’t fully understand. At its best, my husband will insure that this information never gets out and that the person that stole that information never sees the light of day again. That is how I can be relieved. We are all okay. We are all alright.” Greg closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of relief that was shrouding his entire body.

“Mm.” Sherlock thought out loud, turning to the side and leaning his chin on Mycroft’s shoulder. “The old man has a point.”

“When I’m less euphoric in relief I’ll smack you for that cheek, Lock.” Greg mumbled.

“He does?” John asked.

“He does. Well the world already thinks I’m a freak, don’t they? Worst case scenario, they find out that I really am one. Not so bad.”

“Sherlock, you know I hate you using that word when you’re speaking about yourself.” Mycroft looked at his brother and raised an expectant eyebrow.

“Sorry.” Sherlock mumbled.

“Thank you.” Mycroft nodded.

“I suppose I have nothing to lose.” John added with a little laugh, “Sherlock’s basically my employer and he’s not going to fire me.”

“Don’t be so sure- ow!” Sherlock jumped away from Mycroft, rubbing the spot on his arse that was suddenly burning. He pouted at his brother.

“Mean Mycroft.” Greg sighed as he sat back up on the bed, Sherlock nodded, and Greg beckoned him over, “Come here, Trouble, give me a hug, I need one.” Sherlock gave Greg a small smiled before collapsing onto the bed next to him and pulling himself close to the older detective. He wasn’t sure where his head was, ‘age wise’, it didn’t really matter, he just wanted a hug from the man. Greg wrapped his arms around Sherlock before looking up at the two that were still standing. “It could be so much worse, Myc. Besides, we’ll sort it, wont we?” He smiled at his husband and was a little surprised when he smiled back.

“That we will. We always do. Can’t say I’m not still generally pissed off as they say.”

“Oh, pissed off doesn’t even cover it love.” Greg sighed. “John, come here please.” Greg beckoned John over and soon he had both of his adopted younger brothers wrapped up in his arms. He looked up at his husband who was now leaning against the door frame, he saw him run a palm over his face. In that moment he saw just how tired his husband was, this whole thing, this whole mess, it had him scared. That ridiculous man had been terrified and he hadn’t told him. Christ, he’d have to smack some sense into that backside of his. But for now, for now he just wanted to be with them, the three nightmares that he loved so bloody much, no matter how ridiculous they all were.


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ello there wonderful people. So, this is the end of this little(ish) tale. But worry not, the next story with this family is on the way! I cannot thank you all enough for sticking with this story. I really hope you enjoyed it.

Greg didn’t think he had ever seen Mycroft sit on the floor before. Well, he must have done but it just looked so bizarre. As it was they were sat side by side on the landing floor, just outside the door to their bedroom which was ajar, just open enough for Mycroft to keep an eye on the two men fast asleep on their bed. Well, maybe ‘boys’ was a better description at the moment.

“They were tired.” Mycroft thought out loud.

“Mm, they’ve been carrying around a lot of worry.”

Mycroft sighed and looked away from the door, he turned to look at his husband, “Are we bad at this?” he asked sincerely.

“Bad at this?”

“Mm, are we, bad at being fathers. Are we bad at being dads?” 

“Oh, love.” Greg put an arm around his husband and pulled him close. “Yes, sometimes we’re truly shit at it. I think everyone is. And bearing in mind this is not the most usual of circumstances, I think we’re doing alright.” Mycroft closed his eyes and leant against Greg.

“I suppose so.” He was not a man accustomed to being anything but perfect. The two men sat there for a moment, just enjoying each other’s company.

“Da.”

“Ah.” Mycroft sighed against Greg’s shoulder. With that Greg and Mycroft opened their eyes and stretched.

“Pa!”

“Yes dear.” Mycroft grumbled as he stood up, holding out a hand to help Greg up. “Just coming.” Mycroft opened the bedroom door and walked in, “Are you both awake?” he asked with a smile as the two boys blinked up at him.

“A-huh.” John nodded from his position, lying with his head on Sherlock’s chest. 

“Did you sleep well, little monkeys?” Greg asked as he approached the bed, holding out his arms towards John.

“A-huh.” John nodded again as he climbed up into Greg’s arms, resting his head on his Da’s shoulder.

“A-huh, a-huh, a-huh.” Greg mimicked John as he bounced him on his hip three times, John giggled and hid in the crook of Greg’s neck.

“Pa?” Sherlock asked as he sat up on his knees.

“Yes, my love?” Mycroft took Sherlock’s head in his hands and kissed him on the forehead, waiting for an answer.

“Toons?” Mycroft internally rolled his eyes.

“Sherlock,” Mycroft kissed his forehead again, “Holmes.” Another kiss. “Are you really asking me if you can watch cartoons?” Mycroft straightened up and put his hands on his hips in mock outrage. 

“Yeh.” Sherlock grinned as he nodded. 

“Wouldn’t you rather read a book?” Sherlock shook his head, shaking his curls. “Or listen to some music?” Another emphatic shake of the head. “Or read the newspaper?” Sherlock giggled loudly and shook his head again.

“Toons!” 

“Tooos!” John almost copied his brother from Greg’s hip, Greg gasped and tickled John’s ribs as he laughed.

“You too John Hamish?” Greg asked as he tickled, John nodded before hiding his face in Greg’s neck again.

Mycroft sighed, “Well I suppose-“ he was cut off by cheers from the two little ones. “As you have both been so very good today.” Sherlock held his fists up in the air in celebration. “But, what are the rules about cartoons, Master Holmes?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow and Sherlock pulled his hands down to his side, looking up at the ceiling as he thought, hard. Once he thought he’d remembered the answer he looked at Mycroft.

“Onee for a little bit.” Sherlock said very seriously, then holding up his thumb and finger close together to illustrate his point.

“Yes, only for a little bit.” Mycroft nodded, “And when me or Da say it’s time to turn off the cartoons, what does Sherlock say?”

“Yes, sir.” Sherlock nodded with each word, trying to show just how very well behaved he could be.

“Ah!” Mycroft reached down and kissed Sherlock several times on the top of his head, “What polite boys we have! Don’t we have the most well-behaved boys in the world, Da?” Mycroft turned to look at Greg, who winked back.

“Oh, the very best-behaved boys.” 

“Piggy!?” Sherlock threw his arms up at Mycroft, Greg jumped in, expecting confusion on his husband’s part.

“He means, piggy back.”

Mycroft furrowed his brow and turned to look at Greg, all whilst Sherlock was climbing up onto his Pa’s back. “Well, yes, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously,” Greg mimicked Mycroft as he started to leave the room with John.

“Well, what would I think he meant?” Mycroft asked as he followed, carrying Sherlock on his back.

“Oh, I dunno.” Greg mumbled as he carefully started to descend the stairs, followed closely by Mycroft and Sherlock.

“No, really, Gregory, what else would he mean in that situation?”

“Alright, alright, I get it, it’s obvious, I’m just a dummy.”

“Oh hush, I’m just teasing.” 

“Dummy?” John suddenly piped up, lifting his head from Greg’s shoulder and patting his lips with his hand.

“Speak of the devil,” Greg mumbled, looking over his shoulder at Mycroft as he carried John to the sofa, “I don’t suppose you-“

“Back pocket, dear.” Mycroft answered. Greg reached into the back pocket of his jeans and found a clean pacifier there. He didn’t remember putting one there, knowing his husband he’d done it earlier. He thought of everything, that man. 

“Cheers, love.” Greg popped the pacifier into his own mouth for a second to check it was clean. John reached out for it, “Yes, yes monkey,” he said after pulling the pacifier out, “It’s yours, I was just checking.” With that Greg slipped the dummy into John’s waiting mouth. The boy sucked on it a couple of times to check it was right, mmm, yep. He smiled from behind the plastic as his Da. “That’s the good stuff, huh?” Greg said mostly to himself as he sat John down on the sofa, pulling a blanket from the hamper beside it and laying it on John’s lap.

“Down you hop, Lock.” Mycroft reached back and patted Sherlock’s hip, the little one jumped off of his Pa’s shoulders and straight onto the sofa next to John. Sherlock looked down at John next to him and smiled, registering that he was currently very much his little brother. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John,

“My John-John.” He said as he squeezed him.

“That’s right, Lock.” Greg reached over and ruffled Sherlock’s hair. Greg sat down on the other side of John and made a point of getting comfortable, reaching over onto the coffee table to pick up the television remote. He sat back with a sigh and looked up at Mycroft.

“Yes?” Mycroft asked with raised eyebrows.

“Well come on, get comfy.” Greg nodded to the spot on the sofa on the other side of Sherlock.

“Oh, no no.” Mycroft laughed as he stepped away, shaking his head, he turned towards the kitchen.

“Oh, come on Myc!” 

“No.” Mycroft strode off towards the light of the kitchen, he was almost on safe ground.

“Pa?”

Damn it if John didn’t sound bloody adorable when he was this age, and if he’s – yep. Mycroft turned around to see John looking over the back of the sofa, pacifier in his hand rather than his mouth. “Toos?” he asked, tilting his head just so.

“That’ll do it.” Mycroft muttered to himself as he turned on his heel and walked back over to the sofa, throwing himself down next to Sherlock. “Comfy you say?” He turned to look at Greg.

“Yep.”

“Very well.” Mycroft leant back and kicked off his shoes, it was almost certainly the first time he had ever done that. He sighed and leant back, stretching his left arm around Sherlock. Greg saw this and reached his right arm around the back of John, grabbing a hold of Mycroft’s fingers in his hand and squeezing them. “What are we watching?”

“Spaceman!” Sherlock cheered.

“Spaceman it is.” Greg grinned.

“Gregory, I’m not sure that is the actual title of the show, I think that’s just what-“

“Yeah, yeah, smart arse, I know.” Greg grumbled as Mycroft chuckled to himself, entwining his fingers with his husbands. 

Sherlock gasped and tilted his head back to look up at Mycroft, “Da said a bad word!” Sherlock said in a stage whisper.

“Oh, so he did! That’s very naughty, isn’t it.”

“Yeh!” Sherlock nodded with wide eyes. Mycroft glanced over to see that John was now leaning against Greg, his eyes closed. “Da get soap?” Sherlock asked very seriously, “Cos thas tha rules wif bad words.”

“Oh come on, I’m not sure arse-“ Greg started to grumbled as he scrolled through the seemingly endless list of cartoons on the screen.

Sherlock gasped loudly again and flung his head back to look up at Mycroft, “He said it again!”

“Yes he did, you’re quite right Sherlock.”

“Da soap?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Mycroft tried his best to sound very serious about it, rules were rules of course.

“Oh dear.” Sherlock sighed in an unintentional and uncanny impression of his Pa. He shook his head sorrowfully, what a silly Da his Da was. 

“Yes, your Da is going to have his mouth soaped before bed this evening.” Mycroft nodded seriously.

Greg smirked on the side of his face that was hidden from Sherlock as he finally found the show he was looking for. Sherlock nodded again as his Pa handed down his Da’s sentence.

“And a smacked bottom for saying it twice.” Mycroft leant back so he was hidden from view of the boys and raised a flirtatious eyebrow at his husband. Mycroft thought he had the upper hand but then Greg winked and Mycroft blushed. How did he always do manage to do that to him?!

“Poor Da.” Sherlock said, though his interest in the matter had dropped noticeably since the title screen was plastered on the television.

“Yes, I’m very sorry for saying a bad word.” Greg nodded.

“You’re not sorry yet, but you will be.” Mycroft added for good measure. Greg pushed his tongue into the side of his mouth as he tried to stop himself laughing. “Right, time for the show. Press play, Gregory.”

“Yay!” Sherlock cheered, although he did sound a little sleepy now. Greg pressed play and put the remote back on the table, turning himself to the side to better hold John. Mycroft sighed as Sherlock climbed closer onto his lap and leant his head against Mycroft’s chest, burying his nose in his shirt. Sherlock inhaled deeply, he smelled warm, he smelled familiar, he smelled like home. Behind him he could hear the sound of John’s pacifier bobbing in his mouth and the occasional sound of a muffled yawn from Greg. He loved cartoons, but right now he just wanted to close his eyes. So, he did. In his ear he could hear the thump, thump, thump of Mycroft’s heart. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t racing. It was just beating away. He was calm. He was happy. So was Sherlock. So was his brother, and his tired Da. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe. And maybe sounds good, doesn't it?


End file.
